Crime and Punishment
by cestlavie0919
Summary: Peter Hale is one of the FBI's most wanted men, and no one wants him more than FBI Field Director Chris Argent. After he makes Chris look like a fool, Peter decides to give Chris an offer he can't refuse. Rated M for strong BDSM, Dom/sub, consensual kink, and big juicy lemons.
1. Chapter 1

"Director Argent," the Sheriff said, tipping his hat to the approaching the FBI agent whose presence in his office didn't bode well. "To what do we owe the pleasure."

"We believe a wanted man may be hiding here. I'm in charge of overseeing his capture thanks to the abundance of incompetent people who have been previously in charge of this investigation," Argent replied. His steel grey eyes bored into the Sheriff. Peter Hale was a thorn in his side. He had robbed more banks than Bonnie and Clyde and given modern security technology, it was inexcusable, in his opinion, that Hale was still free. He handed the file over to the Sheriff who thumbed through it.

"And what makes you think he might be here?" he asked, closing the file and handing it back.

"His only known living relative, his nephew, supposedly lives here," Argent said, pulling a sheet out of another file and handing it over. "Do you know this man?"

The moment he saw the photo on the paper, the Sheriff's stomach dropped and he sighed. "That's my son-in-law."

* * *

Making the FBI look like bumbling idiots was becoming a personal hobby for Peter. He happened to know that several people had lost their jobs because he slipped through their fingers. As he flipped through the channels in the seedy little motel he was staying in, he felt a swell of pride as the local station played the APB sent out by the new blockhead in charge of his capture. "We believe Mr. Hale to be armed and dangerous. If you spot him, we ask that you do not engage him in any way. We've set up a hotline. There is a reward for anyone whose tip directly leads to his capture."

"Director Argent," one reporter asked, "What do you have to say about the failures the Bureau has had in capturing him thus far?"

Peter laughed as he watched the man's jaw clench. "The suspect's technique is why he has been so elusive. Somehow he is able to hack into the mainframe of the bank security system while simultaneously taking their servers out. During the blip, he strikes. All area banks are on high alert and the FBI is doing everything we can to ensure that he doesn't strike again and that he is brought to justice."

Another reporter stepped up. "And what about the rumors that the suspect is related to the Sheriff?"

Argent rolled his eyes. "Yes, the suspect's nephew _is_ the Sheriff's son-in-law, but the Sheriff and his family have all been highly cooperative and are doing everything they can to assist in the investigation."

Argent called off the press conference after that. As the forensic artist's sketch flashed onto the screen, Peter put his face close to the television, even hitting it to make sure it was displaying the right way. "Well no wonder… the nose is wrong, he has my eyes too close together and my jawline looks much stronger than that…" he whispered to himself.

It did bother him that they were fortifying the security systems already. But he had a plan that would really just frost Argent's cookies. In the past he had been stupid. He actually physically stole the money. He could have kicked himself for the mistakes that he'd made. But resilient as always, he learned. First National Bank of Beacon Hills was about to be attacked. And they would never see him coming.

* * *

"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!" Chris shouted throwing a glass across the room. It smashed into the wall, bits of glass rained down onto the floor. Peter Hale had once again outsmarted the FBI. He robbed First National Bank of Beacon Hills from his computer, routing four million dollars from the bank, breaking it into over a hundred different accounts all over the world, some of which weren't traceable under international laws and somehow patched it so that it looked as though Chris's own computer was responsible for it all.

Chris stormed outside. When his phone rang, he took a deep breath. "Field Director Argent speaking," he growled.

"That was pretty genius wasn't it?" Peter's voice cackled on the other end. Chris flagged down a nearby tech and pointed at his phone, mouthing the words "track this!" The tech immediately ran to his computer. "Don't bother tracking this call. I've set it so that the signal pings from eight different towers in a random order every two seconds."

"You're getting sloppy, Hale," Chris replied, trying to buy himself time.

"No, Director," Peter chuckled. "You are. You showed your hand and I took advantage of it. I'm actually starting to feel sorry for you guys."

"Feel sorry for yourself. You're going to have a lot of fun in prison!" he threatened.

"A prison rape joke… classy! Never pegged you for the low brow humor," Peter laughed. "Enjoy your press conference tomorrow. They're going to eat you alive. Try not to worry so much, Chris. You'll get wrinkles." The line went dead after that.

He was right. The press was almost as vicious as his superiors who told him not to bother returning to his office in Sacramento if Hale wasn't in custody soon.

He didn't drink often, but right now, Chris Argent was in desperate need of some whiskey. He stopped by a package store close to his hotel. Weary from the string of endless phone calls, he didn't even bother protesting when an older man bumped into him on the way out. He apologized for being airheaded, to which the old man made a snarky reply regarding his failure to prevent the bank attack. He let that one roll off his shoulders not wanting to further besmirch his agency's reputation by letting it get out that a field director beat an elderly man.

As he got to his hotel room, he searched through his wallet, but couldn't find the key card. He figured he must have left it at the makeshift command center and went down to the motel office for a replacement, forking over ten dollars for the "replacement fee". Chris was sure the punk behind the counter was pulling his legs, but he couldn't prove it. Returning to his room, he wasted no time in getting wasted, pounding glass after glass of the amber liquid before passing out on the bed.

When he awoke, his head was pounding. He needed water or coffee… he didn't care which. He hadn't yet opened his eyes, sure that the light would only make his headache worse. As he went to move, he was abruptly stopped. A clinking noise that shouldn't have happened, and his arm couldn't move any further. He knew exactly what that meant. As he opened his eyes to look, a loud "Fuck me!" escaped his lips. Handcuffs—_HIS_ handcuffs—were chaining him to a bed. He wasn't in his hotel room. He had no idea where the hell he was.

"Is that an invitation?" a familiar voice sounded, coming into the room.

"You're the old man from the liquor store," Chris said groggily, blinking his eyes, trying to get things to stop moving as much. He wasn't sure if he was hung over or still drunk.

The old man nodded, before standing up a little more straight. Chris watched in disgust as the man began peeling at his skin. A mask befitting of Hollywood had concealed the man's true identity. He was looking into the ice blue eyes of Peter Hale. Peter tossed the mask aside. "That thing is very uncomfortable."

"Why the fuck is this happening to me?" Chris asked himself, looking up. "God, please kill me now…"

Peter chuckled, approaching the bed. "I don't plan on killing you. I just want to talk."

"My phone can be tracked easily," Chris said. "They'll find me."

"No they won't," Peter replied. "They'll find your phone in a PO box in Palo Alto."

"What do you want with me?" Chris asked, steeling himself against the approach.

"I told you… I just want to talk."

"About?"

"Your obsession with me. Honestly, you're coming on a bit strong. It's really off-putting, my friend."

"I'm not your friend!" Chris spat.

"Not yet!" Peter corrected. "But you _are_ pretty tightly wound and I think it's in both of our best interests to get to the bottom of that one. I took the liberty of scanning your hard drive."

Chris's eyes widened.

Peter laughed. "I know. I was shocked too. Quite nasty… bareback… BDSM… your internet history read like my fantasy list. I just have to wonder when it comes to the BDSM part, though… which do you prefer?" Peter's eyes raked over Chris in a manner that made the agent feel dirty. The criminal walked his fingers up Chris's leg, stopping at the Argent family jewels. There was a twinkle in his eyes that made Chris nervous. "You're hard as a rock…" Chris blushed shamefully, much to Peter's delight. "You like being restrained in your own handcuffs by the guy your job quite literally depends on."

"Are you going to rape me?" Chris asked, his voice cracking slightly.

Peter looked offended by the suggestion. "Oh no! I propose something much more mutually satisfying. We play out our little fantasies for a week, then after, you can cross that off your bucket list and I'll turn myself in."

"And if I refuse?" Chris asked.

"Then I'll blindfold you, drop you off outside Beacon Hills and we'll resume this little game of hide and seek that you seem to be taking so much pleasure in," Peter replied.

Chris could barely think with the sound of his own racing heart thundering in his ears. He couldn't remember the last time he was this turned on. "How do I know you'll keep your end of the bargain?"

Peter climbed on top his captive. He loved seeing how uneven Chris's breath became as their faces got closer and closer. "Trust is the cornerstone of a good Dom/sub relationship, my pet." A shiver coursed through him at being called a "pet."

This criminal was offering him everything he wanted: his fantasy and the satisfaction of turning in one of the best criminal minds of the decade. Fear flickering in both his voice and eyes, he whispered, "I'll do it."

* * *

**A/N: **Thank you for reading my story! I owe a special thanks to SexySourAlpha for helping me with the idea. I wrote this in about 2 hours, so I apologize for any typos. This story is mainly going to focus on Peter and Chris and we may see glimpses of the Sheriff, Stiles, and Derek, but if so, it'll be sort of on the side. This series will also be lots of PWP, but it'll be really hot, I promise. :) Let me know what you think and I'll be updating soon!


	2. Chapter 2

It could easily be said that Chris Argent was a type-A personality. He had been called that many times before. He had also been called "anal retentive," "thorough," "control freak," and his personal favorite: "soulless bastard from hell." He ran a right ship and held everyone to high standards. He hadn't always been such a hard-ass, though. In fact, when his wife, Victoria, was alive, he was actually the _nice_ one. He loved Victoria with every fiber of his being and there wasn't a day he didn't think of her. Even as he laid naked across the lap of the man he was charged with capturing, his thoughts flickered between the pain shooting from his reddening ass cheeks and what Victoria might think if she were to see him now.

Victoria wasn't what you might call a "classical beauty" but Chris saw through the tough exterior she put out to the world. Never being adventurous in the bedroom,Victoria taught Chris to curb certain appetites for the duration of his marriage because he knew that Victoria wouldn't approve. After she passed, when he needed release, he would log onto one porn site or another, pleasuring himself as he watched the people on screen perform acts that would have disgusted his wife. Though he had offers from both sexes, he stayed single after his wife died, trying to honor his vow to her, which didn't stop at death. It wasn't cheating, he reasoned, if he was merely observing actors on a screen. However he had no doubt in his mind that what he was doing with Peter Hale at that moment was a major violation of that oath he held most sacred. He focused on the physical pain as a distraction from the emotional torment he was putting himself through.

When Peter first bent Chris over his knee, he had made a deal with the sub: The longer Chris could go without crying out from the pain, the quicker Peter would reward him with a prize. Chris didn't realize that the price Peter referred to was allowing the sub to worship his Dom's cock. Going into it, Chris thought he would ace this one. He had to be shot with a Taser gun in the Bureau academy, so how bad could a few spankings really be?

Peter had a method. It left little in the way of marking, but caused quite a bit of pain. He was really doing this to test Chris's limits. Despite the fact that Chris was the investigator in charge of arresting him, Peter wanted to make sure that Chris would be sexually sated by the end of the week, rather than scarred for life. After 36 swats, the sub finally broke. "You did great," Peter congratulated the sub, whose hard cock was leaking precum all over the Dom's hairy leg. Peter manipulated Chris's body so that his face was where the leak had been. "Clean up your mess," he ordered.

Chris lapped at Peter's leg, cleaning any traces of his fluids off the Dom. He sat on his hands and knees like a dog, his ordered "resting position", as he awaited Peter's new commands for him. The stinging pain of his spanking hadn't yet faded. He couldn't remember any of his childhood punishments hurting this much.

Peter eyed Chris carefully. The Agent's facial expressions betrayed his rapidly fluctuating state of mind. There were moments when he looked blissful. Chris's cock hadn't gone down from full attention since the first swat. There were moments of forlorn sadness. He saw glimpses of anticipation, excitement, lust, shame, and disappointment. He was intrigued that one man could feel all of these things so rapidly and not explode. "What would you like to do now, pet?" Peter asked, his eyes trained on the man at his feet.

The first thought that crossed the sub's mind was that he'd like to see whether or not giving head was as bizarre as the porn videos made it look. He was inexperienced with male/male sex. Yeah, he'd shared the occasional hand job with an eager guy in college, but that had been the extent of it. His eyes were trained on the FBI. He wanted nothing to tear down the image he'd created for himself. Yet, he saw great freedom in pleasuring another man. He knew what felt good to him and the likelihood that Peter would find pleasure in the same thing made his odds of failure miniscule. He was most frightened by how much he wanted to taste Peter's cock. His pride was what was getting in his way. He just couldn't figure out how to reconcile his über-masculine identity with this nearly mind-numbing desire to gorge himself on his Dom's erect dick. Moreover, he had no idea how to word it so he continued staring at it longingly. His gaze wasn't unnoticed by Peter, but Peter wasn't going to give him what he craved until he begged for it. Chris wouldn't get to taste his Dom until Peter was thoroughly convinced that Chris felt the need to suckle from his cock for life itself to continue.

Several minutes passed without an answer so Peter took matters into his own hands and fixed a collar around Chris's neck. His cock pulsed longingly at the sight and he hoped that Chris would realize what he needed to do before his own willpower failed him. Chaining Chris back to the bed, Peter decided to motivate his sub by rewarding him for a job well done with the spankings. He spat on his palm and took Chris's cock in hand, stroking it with gentle turning motions. Chris's eyes nearly rolled back in his head at the sensation of another person's hand on his often neglected cock. "How long has it been since you last came?" Peter asked him.

"Two days," Chris yelped, succumbing to the pleasure Peter was providing him.

"Two days, _what_?" the criminal corrected.

"Two days, _sir_," the sub replied.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," Peter shook his head, staring into Chris's. "You must be aching for release."

Chris bit his bottom lip, nodding. He could feel his orgasm building, crafted by Peter's expert touch. "Yes sir," he gasped, inching closer and closer to completion. Right as he was on the edge, he curled his toes and Peter removed his hand. Chris whimpered in frustration. Peter gave Chris a few minutes to cool down before again, building him back up. He repeated this until the slightest touch had Chris bellowing his moans, and the refusal made him weep. "What do you want to do?" Peter asked.

Still, Chris couldn't say it. Those six little words that would be his saving grace: _I want to suck your cock_. Again, Peter built him up, releasing his grip in just the nick of time. "What do you want to do, Chris?" he asked again, more forcefully.

In his head, Chris was screaming the answer: _Let me suck your cock! I want to drink your cum! Use my mouth!_ But the words remained caged behind his lips. "You're disappointing me, Chris," Peter said simply, again building up the orgasm and letting it slip away, causing Chris to thrash around the bed, tears of frustration trailing down his cheeks. "Please…" he begged.

"You don't get what you want until I get what I want: an answer. So tell me! What do you want to do?"

He focused every ounce of effort into putting that stream of words together, but they just wouldn't come… and neither did he. Three more times Peter delayed his bliss. Precum was pooling on the sheets beneath Peter. "Say it!" he ordered.

He stroked Chris fervently, once more. "I want to suck your cock!" he screamed. "Please let me suck your cock, sir! I want it so bad…" Peter felt almost sorry for the weeping mess of a man before him. Again, he released Chris without climax. The sub's body shook with the ghosts of the orgasms that he never experienced.

"That wasn't so difficult, was it?" Peter asked, straddling Chris's body, putting his dripping erection at his sub's lips. The sub ravenously engulfed it, wasting no time in getting it to the back of his throat. Peter pushed more and more in before holding Chris's head still and fucking the sub's throat, pausing only when the bound man coughed or gagged. It was by far the best blowjob Peter had ever received and it didn't take long for him to empty his now spit-soaked cock and balls into Chris's throat. Chris swallowed it and Peter beamed with pride, releasing Chris from the handcuffs. He climbed down next to him, moving the sub so that he was sitting on his Dom's lap. Peter's waning cock poked between Chris's legs as Chris rested his head against Peter's strong chest. The Dom took some of Chris's leftover slobber and used it as lube, furiously stroking up and down the length of his shaft. Chris's breath became unstable as shot after shot of hot white cum sprayed onto their bodies. The Sub's orgasm was so strong that he convulsed slightly, making inhuman sounds as more and more cum burst from him, completely coating Peter's hand. Peter licked two of his fingers clean, wanting to sample his sub's flavor before feeding the rest of it back to Chris.

When they were mostly clean again, Peter lifted Chris's chin. Chris's body was still trembling from the aftershocks of such a powerful orgasm and he reluctantly looked into Peter's eyes. "You did great, pet," Peter whispered, his voice husky in the afterglow of their bliss. "You made me so proud…" Leaning his head down slightly, he kissed Chris, holding the shaking man's body tightly in his protective grip. "You surrendered control."

* * *

**A/N: **Alrighty... so I hope you enjoyed that. Let me know what you think. This story is going to delve into some of their pasts. We're going to see a bit more of Stiles and Derek in the next chapter, but like I said before... this will mostly focus on Peter and Chris. There might be a slightly longer wait between updates for chapter 3 because I need to work on my other stories, too. But if my muse keeps pushing me like it did today, then who knows? :)


	3. Chapter 3

The feel of Peter's arms around him felt better than Chris would ever have expected. "Are you alright?" Peter asked softly, feeling his sub trembling against him. Chris nodded, but Peter didn't believe him. "You need to be completely honest with me if this is going to work, even if it's just for the week. If you're not ok, I need to know this at any point," Peter said, reiterating the rules they agreed to before.

Chris nodded, leaning into Peter's chest. "Yes sir," he managed to say. "I just need a bit longer, sir."

Peter tightened his grip on the lean torso in his arms. "Take as long as you need."

The time he spent in Peter's grip was comforting. The shame he felt about breaking the vow to Victoria was ebbing as he realized that his wife wouldn't have wanted him to be that lonely for the rest of his life. And while this little arrangement was just for the week, he was sure he'd get at least a raise for capturing Hale. Slowly, the shaking stopped and Chris felt he was more at equilibrium than before they even began. It was amazing what wonders a good orgasm could do for you.

He enjoyed the intimacy of sitting on Peter's lap with the strong arms wrapped around him, but he knew Peter would want to do something else soon. He could already feel the Dom's cock growing harder. "I think I'm ready," he said softly.

"I'm sorry… _what_?" Peter replied ominously.

At first, Chris was unsure why he received such an angry reply before realizing that he forgot the honorific. "I mean I think I'm ready, _sir_," he said meekly.

"Good," Peter chuckled. "But if you make that mistake again, I'll have to punish you." Cuddle time was most definitely over. Pushing Chris off his lap, Peter got up and walked out of the room, returning several minutes later with a large upright mirror that he positioned at the end of the bed.

In their negotiations of rules, Chris indicated that he wanted to be penetrated and that as his Dom, Peter could do that at any time. He really just wanted to hear Chris beg for it. More specifically, he wanted Chris to beg to be able to watch himself get fucked for the first time. Peter climbed back into bed, pulling Chris back onto his lap and began teasing the sensitive skin around Chris's opening, causing the sub to tense up. "You're not ready for me yet," Peter sighed, disappointed.

"Please sir!" Chris said, scrambling, afraid that somehow he'd angered Peter. "I'm ready." He had never actually wanted to get fucked by another man before. There was a cadet in the Academy who he came close to fucking, but backed out last minute (much to the disappointment of that cadet). Other than that, the only thought he ever put into anal sex was when he watched it on his computer. All the porn he watched was gay porn—which in hindsight should have been a bit of a clue for him. But he loved to see one man taking control and dominating the other in the most primal and invasive manner physically possible. Normally when he imagined those scenarios, he was the one doing the invading, but every atom in his body was vibrating at the idea of Peter being his conqueror. His heart raced as he saw a mischievous smile part the Dom's supple lips.

Peter chuckled. "No, my pet, you're not. But you will be soon." He reached into a bedside table and pulled out a bottle of lube and a jet black butt plug. Chris's eyes widened. The plug looked to be slightly wider at its largest point than Peter was, and not quite as long. However the most remarkable aspect of the plug was the handle attached to the base, which held a striking resemblance to a dog's tail. "Get on all fours," Peter ordered and Chris obeyed. He liberally coated the plug with the silky, slippery liquid and shoved a lube-coated finger into Chris's exposed bottom. Chris grunted at the intrusion and Peter added another finger. As he worked them in and out, he smiled, seeing the look of confusion reflected back to him in the mirror.

When he was satisfied, he removed his fingers, pressing the plug up to the awaiting hole. He watched his sub's facial expressions as he pushed it in, gently turning it. Chris's eyes bugged slightly as he grunted and moaned. His cock twitched as more and more of the plug disappeared into him until at last, he had taken it to the hilt. Peter marveled at the sight. "You really are my pet now. Complete with your own tail."

Chris stood on all fours looking at himself in the mirror. Collar around his neck, tail butt plug in his ass, all he needed was fake ears or a muzzle and he'd fit the role perfectly… and he wasn't opposed to the idea either. Peter wiped the excess lube off onto some tissues, tossing them casually on the floor before reclining against the headboard. He shook his hard cock in the sub's direction, yawning. "I'm tired. Will you take care of this so I can go to sleep?"

Chris turned around, crawling up to perform the task set to him. He actually really liked the feel of the large member in his mouth. Peter held onto the sides of his sub's head, thrusting upward a little as his climax approached. When Chris had swallowed down his orgasm, Peter sunk down between the sheets, fluffed his pillow and watched as Chris moved to lie down next to him. "What are you doing?" Peter asked.

"I thought we were going to sleep," Chris replied, quickly adding "sir".

"We are," Peter replied, smiling. "But pets sleep at the foot of the bed." He pointed for emphasis. Chris nodded, curling up where he was permitted to. The plug was uncomfortable and he knew he was going to have a sleepless night.

* * *

The Sheriff rubbed his eyes in exasperation. He was working on his seventh cup of coffee and going on nearly 36 hours of no sleep. The FBI went apeshit when Director Argent went missing and the person who assumed command of the investigation in Argent's absence made the Director look absolutely pleasant. His son, Stiles, insisted on being in the interview. "I didn't go to Law School at UCLA just to earn a fancy piece of paper," he said.

Stiles's husband, Derek, was the subject of the interview due to his connection to Peter Hale. "Mr. Hale," the interrogator began as he entered the room.

"Yes?" both Stiles and Derek replied in unison. The Sheriff was glad he was only watching through the glass because he struggled to stifle a laugh. He had no idea what he was up against.

"I was speaking to Derek," the interrogator said tersely. "What exactly are you doing here?" he aimed the question at Stiles.

"Derek's my husband," Stiles answered simply.

"Your point being?"

"Seeing as I'm a trial attorney, I feel it makes Derek privy to a discounted rate for my services," Stiles smirked.

The interrogator's frown turned into a tense pull of his lips. "Derek, what is the nature of your relationship with the suspect Peter Hale?"

"He's my uncle," Derek replied, feigning a convincing yawn to denote his boredom.

"And what do you do for a living, Derek?" the interrogator asked, careful not to follow into the "Mr. Hale" trap again.

"I'm a software engineer," Derek replied.

"And how familiar are you with the 'DOLOS' program?"

"Very. I'm the one who designed it."

"What does it do?"

"It's a Trojan Horse 2.0. I developed it for the FBI to investigate illegal activities on Wall Street. DOLOS enters a network and writes itself into that network's programming, making it impossible to be seen on a virus scan, then feeds anything containing certain pre-set buzz words back to the Bureau. There's a special feature that once activated, kills the network, making all computers attached nothing more than decorated bricks," Derek answered. Stiles had to hide his surprise. Derek had never mentioned anything about software coding for the FBI.

"Who else did you give it to?" the investigator asked.

"Nobody. The Bureau took my only copy of the disc and informed me it could be considered 'cyber terrorism' or 'treason' to give that software to anyone else," he replied.

"Well, guess what software program Peter Hale used when he siphoned $4 million from the First National Bank of Beacon Hills," the investigator demanded, slamming his fist dramatically onto the table.

"I'm sorry, but is there a point to this little game of Trivial Pursuit?" Stiles asked.

"How about the fact that Derek can be charged with conspiracy to commit theft and aiding and abetting a wanted fugitive?" the interrogator snapped. "How's that for a point?"

Stiles laughed. "Did you bump your head on the way in here? First of all, you'd have to be able to prove to grand jury that he willingly gave the software to his uncle, you'd have to come up with a motive and considering we're doing well enough on our own, there's not much of one there. Added to the fact that if you tried to pursue those charges on this astonishing lack of evidence, given the little fist slam thing you just did, I would easily bog you down in so much legal paperwork that you wouldn't make it to the courthouse in time for the judge to laugh you right back out of it."

Derek shifted. Watching Stiles go into lawyer mode on the drop of a hat was kind of sexy and he knew exactly how he'd be paying his lawyer fees later. "Technology has always been a forte of my family's. I'm one of the best, but Peter is better. If he used something that looked like DOLOS, then he developed it on his own, or he had an informant from inside the bureau. He was always sort of a rogue. That's why my family shunned him."

His ego having been given a considerable punch in the nuts, the interrogator sighed in exasperation. "Is there a way to trace DOLOS?"

Derek shook his head. "Early in testing, we found a few bugs, but after patching them, DOLOS became the perfect Trojan Horse. I could try and develop a DOLOS-specific virus sweeper, but it could take months."

"We don't have months!"

"Then maybe you should stop delaying us with these stupid questions!" Stiles suggested.

As they walked out of the interrogation room, the Sheriff beamed with pride. He had never before been so proud of his son. "Get some sleep, dad," Stiles said as he hugged his father before heading home. Derek wrapped his arm around Stiles' waist, walking down the hallway and out the door with his husband.

* * *

Chris shivered in the cold air of the pitch black bedroom. His ass spasmed against the plug, desperately trying to close shut. There was no clock in the room so he had no way to know how much time had truly passed. He had to pee so carefully he got up and tried to find the bathroom. Walking with the plug was one of the most bizarre sensations he'd ever felt. His normally sexy, suave gait was made to be awkward and rigid. He wandered around the dwelling. He had no idea where he was. He couldn't see anything in the pitch blackness. Feeling along a wall, he managed to find a light switch. He flicked it on, seeing that he was in a kitchen. It was lavishly decorated with granite countertops and lovely maple cabinets. The appliances all had a sleek black and silver motif. Exploring further, he finally found a bathroom, he had just lifted the toilet seat and gotten into position to relieve himself when the sound of Peter clearing his throat startled him.

"If you needed to be walked, all you had to do was say so," Peter said, holding a black leather leash. "Get back on all fours." Peter attached the leash and led his sub outside. "I've never seen a dog so unexcited to go outside. You should wag your tail a little." Peter grinned as Chris shook his butt. He stroked the sub's head. "Good boy."

He stood by, watching as Chris relieved himself and led his sub back into the house, leading him back into the bedroom where Chris climbed back to the foot of the bed. Peter unhooked the leash and hung it nearby. "Sleep well," he said before he, too crawled back into bed. Chris tried counting sheep, reciting the Bill of Rights, even concentrating on the tune of various child lullabies. Nothing could help him sleep given how cold he was. He wasn't sure how much time had passed when he felt Peter get up, still unable to see in the black void of the room, however moments later, he felt a soft blanket be carefully laid over him. He knew Peter couldn't see it, but he smiled gratefully. "Thank you, sir," he whispered as Peter returned to bed. Soon, Chris was fast asleep.

* * *

**A/N**: Okay, I don't think I've ever had so much fun writing a chapter before. I really hope that came through! I thank you for reading and encourage you to give feedback! It really helps fuel my muse. I also encourage suggestions of different kinks to explore in the story because I've never really written a story like this, so... I'm sort of at a loss. Until next time!


	4. Chapter 4

NOTE: THIS CHAPTER IS A LITTLE INTENSE. TRIGGER WARNING! PROCEED WITH CAUTION

* * *

Peter woke up before Chris did. He smiled as he admired his pet's peaceful face, the tip of his tail poking out from under the blanket. Quietly, he made his way to the kitchen and began cooking scrambled eggs and sausage. The scent roused the pet from slumber. Chris could have used a cup of coffee, but something told him he better not ask for one. Two silver bowls and a plate sat on the counter. When the food was finally done cooking, Peter scraped some scrambled eggs and put two links of sausage into one bowl, filled the other with water, and set them on the floor by the table. Peter smirked as he saw the flash of humiliation on Chris's face as the sub dropped to all fours to eat his meal from the bowls.

"Pets are usually happy to have their food and water bowls filled," Peter said, glancing at the black tail and raising his eyebrow.

"Thank you, sir," Chris said, wiggling his butt to create simulate a wagging tail.

"Good boy," Peter chuckled. He leisurely ate his food, occasionally stealing glances at the hairy, plugged ass facing him as Chris did his best to eat without using his hands. He couldn't wait to claim that territory as his. When both had finished, Peter washed the dishes and attached the leash to Chris's collar, again taking him outside to relieve himself. Though the yard was completely fenced in, Chris blushed a furious shade of red as Peter watched him. Once they got back in, Peter went into a frenzy. Chris was nearly ready for him, there was just a little preparation that needed to happen—both mental and physical.

He pulled Chris to his feet, still leading him by the leash, opening what looked like a closet door to reveal a stairwell that led down into a basement. Peter set to the task of stringing Chris up with a series of complex knots. The sub whimpered slightly as he was hoisted, no longer able to rely on the ground beneath him for support. While his torso was well supported with ropes, the sub's hands were bound, as were his feet.

When the riggings were complete, Peter walked over to Chris's head. Caressing the sub's hairline, he bent down slightly, placing a probing kiss on his sub's lips. "This is your first time being fucked, isn't it?" he asked when he ended the kiss. The grey eyes flickered with a combination of fear and anticipation as the sub nodded. "The first time can be very intense. Yours will be especially. You're going to have a lot of sensory input at once and it might become a bit confusing or even overwhelming as your brain tries to process it." Peter's fingers traced a line from his sub's jaw to his chest, drawing circles around the sub's nipples. Chris's cock twitched. Peter stared into the eyes. "It might be a little scary and that's alright. There's an interesting link between pain and pleasure. One can magnify the other in truly spectacular ways if you know what you're doing… but you'll need to trust me completely. Do you trust me?"

The breath got caught in Chris's throat. He nodded. "Yes sir," he whispered.

"Good," came Peter's husky reply. "I need to trust that you'll let me know if things go beyond what you can handle." His hand ran across the sub's tight stomach. "Will you do that for me?" Again the sub nodded. Peter smiled, kissing Chris again, more deeply than before. "I hope you'll enjoy this as much as I will."

Peter walked away to a cabinet, bringing out a tray of items which he put on a cart and wheeled over to the suspended agent. He set out the items as a doctor would in preparation for surgery. And in a way, that's what was happening. It was a sexual and psychological surgery. Chris watched as Peter laid out a blindfold, a riding crop, cat-o-nine-tails, a leather paddle, clothespins, candles, matches, and a razor blade. Again, Chris's cock twitched. There were also an array of dildos and plugs and a large bottle of lube, the sight of which brought more comfort to Chris's mind than Peter would ever know. Slowly, the Dom began to work the tail out of the sub's ass. After being in for so long, the sub's hole gaped slightly, trying to close. Peter walked around, putting the blindfold on. When he was sure that Chris couldn't see, he asked, "How do you feel?"

Chris shifted as much as he could. "Empty… anxious," he replied.

Peter chuckled. "We'll take care of the empty part soon enough." He wanted to look into the beautiful eyes as he fucked them straight into the back of his sub's head, but the lack of sight would heighten Chris's other senses, making the entire experience more intense. He put some lube on his fingers, pushing them into the awaiting sub who moaned at his Dom's touch. "What do you want, Chris?" he asked as he took his fingers out, stroking the sub's cock a little before coating his own with the satiny liquid.

"I want you to fuck me, sir," Chris responded as Peter rested the tip of his cock at the sub's opening.

"I don't believe you. Convince me," Peter whispered.

Chris whimpered. He wanted Peter to bury himself to the hilt. He didn't like feeling empty. "Please use my hole, sir!" Chris begged. "I want to feel you inside me!"

"Better," was Peter's response as he pushed in, holding in a loud groan. Chris's body hugged his cock tightly. "You feel so good on your Dom's cock…" he moaned as Chris urged him further with repeated whispers of "Please fuck me!"

Once he was all the way in he stopped, marveling at the sensations. Now was when the real fun would begin. He grabbed a few clothespins, placing one on each of Chris's nipples. In his shock, he clamped down on Peter's cock. Peter leaned forward and kissed Chris in appreciation of the pleasure the sub's body was bringing him.

Grabbing several more clothespins, he pinched some skin on Chris's cock and placed one there, causing a yelp and another abrupt tightening of his hole. He repeated the process on Chris's balls, thighs, biceps, and abdomen. Each time he felt Chris squeeze around him, he made several hard thrusts.

The pain was intense. So spread throughout his body, that Chris had a hard time focusing on what hurt more. All he knew was that he wanted more of those thrusts of Peter's cock. He longed to see the look of ecstasy on his Dom's face as he took pleasure from the sub. But instead, he could only see darkness, which meant he was not prepared for the sting of the cat-o-nine-tails on his side. He bucked, trying to escape it as Peter struck again and again in different spots on his torso. Each time, the sub involuntarily clenched his ass muscles, bringing groans through the throat of his Dom. He whimpered as the Dom withdrew. His adrenaline was pumping and he tried to concentrate on the rustling sounds he heard, but he couldn't figure out what Peter was doing. His muscles were aching and his hole longed to be filled.

He barely had the time to register the swishing sound preceding what he could only assume was the leather paddle coming into contact with his ass. He screamed in pain. Four more swats came in rapid succession. Tears fell from his eyes. His ass cheeks burned. It was worse than the spanking yesterday. As his Dom pumped in and out of him, he relaxed a bit more. Sounds were beginning to run together. He could feel his pulse rising. He felt the sting of hot wax on his abdomen, cock, legs, and neck. Five more swats. More thrusts inside him. The riding crop made contact with his cock. All of it was happening so quickly, and with no way to prepare for what was ahead, he was beginning to panic. Peter's cock was inside him again. The pace was erratic. More wax pooled on his skin. He began to thrash violently, unable to even remember their agreed-upon safe word. "Peter! Please stop! I can't breathe!" he yelled. His breathing was more and more rapid and he was beginning to feel the sensations of floating as colors swirled around him.

Immediately, Peter jumped into action, pulling off the blindfold and slowly lowering Chris down, holding him tightly. "It's alright… I've got you," Peter cooed. He quickly checked Chris's pulse and removed the clothespins. The sub was sweating profusely. "Take deep breaths," Peter urged as Chris grasped frantically at his Dom's arms. Peter modeled the 'in through your nose, out through your mouth' breathing technique and Chris's dilated pupils and heart rate returned to normal. "You're okay," Peter kept whispering, as Chris buried his face into the Dom's bare chest. The quick response to his needs deepened the bond he was starting to feel as Peter's sub. His level of trust in the Dom was increasing. He looked up into his Dom's concerned eyes. "What do you need from me?" Peter asked softly.

The contrast between so much stimulation and so little stimulation was also unnerving. He wanted sex. Vanilla sex. Like what he would have with Victoria. Still unable to form coherent sentences, he reached down, grabbing Peter's cock, which hadn't quite started to go down, and guided it into him. "Plain," Chris managed. Peter nodded his understanding and gently laid Chris on his back, taking care to not slip out of the sub. Skin began to move against skin. Eyes gazed into eyes. Chris focused on the easiest thing he could: the sensation of use. The slightly stretched, comfortable feeling of having something inside him… not just anything: his Dom. Peter maintained a steady pace before he gave one last thrust and emptied himself into his sub.

This was the part that Chris had anticipated and feared the most. It was the thing he had most searched for on the internet because it was what excited him most: the primordial urge of man to conquer other men in the most degrading and dehumanizing manner possible, but as he felt the ropes of Peter's hot cum bursting into him, looking into Peter's eyes as it happened, he knew he had been conquered and claimed, yet he didn't feel degraded or dehumanized. He felt respected, cherished, and most surprisingly… powerful.

* * *

**A/N**: Okay... so again... I lied. I just can't concentrate on writing anything other than this story... for obvious reasons, I guess. :) Let me know what you thought of this chapter and feel free to send suggestions for kinks you would like to see Peter explore with Chris to my Tumblr: .com


	5. Chapter 5

"I can't work if you're breathing over me like this," Derek growled. The agent who interrogated him was continuously finding ways to piss him and Stiles off.

"Where's your little lawyer boyfriend?" the agent asked.

Derek's temper flared. "He's my _husband_ and I can assure you. He's anything but little."

The agent's eyes widened. That was most definitely too much information. "You know what, I'm going to leave you my card. If you don't call me the moment this program is done, I'm arresting you for interfering with a federal investigation." The agent dropped the card on Derek's keyboard.

Derek glanced at it as he moved it out of his way, his fingers continuing to produce line after line of complex computer codes. At least now, he knew the bastard's name. "You seem awfully eager to get me into handcuffs, Agent Whittemore."

The agent scoffed, storming out of Derek's study. The smug attitude Derek exuded made him crave the idea of taking down the entire Hale family. Starting with that uncle who could now add kidnapping, and for all anyone knew—murder—to the growing list of charges he'd face once in custody.

The clock was ticking for them to find both Argent and Hale and Agent Jackson Whittemore was going to be the one who did it. He was going to succeed where so many others had failed, and prove to everyone that he was better.

* * *

"What happened?" Chris asked once both men had fallen from their sex-fueled high.

"Before, during, or after I took your cherry?" Peter replied with a laugh.

"When I freaked out. That's never happened to me before," Chris replied. And he was right. Chris was always very much in charge. His demeanor oozed authority and control, which is why this was all so out of character for him. He kept his eye on the prize, though. The thought of seeing Peter in handcuffs, being lead to prison by his special agents and being able to close the case on the most high profile bank robberies in American history. And if the sex and BDSM play between now and then felt amazing, well, that was just icing on the cake.

"Some people call it 'subspace'. It's your parasympathetic nervous system responding to a high amount of sensory input... particularly pain. Your body starts producing its own morphine."

"It was intense," Chris sighed. "Thank you for stopping."

Peter tightened his embrace around his sub. His already hardening cock was pressed into Chris's crack. "I told you to trust me. Now I know not to try so much at once. Do you want to go again?"

Chris nodded. "That sounds great!"

The men stood up. "It's so odd to see you without your tail…" Peter remarked guiding Chris back to where he had been strung up before. This time, Peter bound Chris's hands and hoisted his sub so that his arms were stretched overhead and he could just barely stand on the tips of his toes. This position allowed Peter to truly admire his sub's lean build. Once he was sure that Chris was secure, he walked up, sensually pulling Chris's hips close. "This position is going to cause strain in your arms, chest, and stomach. If it gets to be too much, say the word."

Peter grabbed the riding crop, playfully striking Chris's chest. Chris grinned, enjoying the slight sting. His dick was instantly hard. Peter pulled Chris's face close to his and kissed him. He kissed down his sub's chest, abs, and finally, the sub's cock was level with his mouth. To Chris's surprise, Peter parted his lips, taking the sub in his mouth. Moans issued from the sub's mouth. Remembering how much he loved the disappointed look on Chris's face, he stopped when he felt his sub was close. Standing up, he turned Chris around, roughly entering him. A relieved sigh came from Chris as he was once again filled with Peter's cock. "You like having me inside you, don't you?" Peter growled into Chris's ear. Using the sub's hips as leverage, he pounded himself in as Chris yelped a breathy "Yes sir!" in response.

The sub's neglected cock bounced up and down as his Dom battered his hole. His arms and chest burned with the ache of strain, but the feeling of being full was just too great for him to pay any mind to the pain. The sensation of cum bursting into him gave him a feeling of accomplishment. He was proud that he had pleasured his Dom, whose cum was slowly dribbling down his leg. "You love getting fucked, don't you?" Peter asked, fixing a knowing smile to his face.

Chris nodded, wanting to feel that pleasant fullness again. "Yes sir!"

Turning on his heels, Peter walked over to cabinet and pulled out a machine with a dildo pointing straight up on a rod. The machine was heavy which caused Peter's muscles to strain visibly beneath his taut skin. Chris's cock jumped. Peter moved the machine so it was under Chris. He pointed the dildo into Chris's hole and plugged the machine in. "This is called a fucking machine. I think you'll figure out why rather quickly. Since I'm a nice Dom and I know how much you love getting fucked, I figured I'd let this baby plow you for a bit while I go make dinner." He lubed the shaft, then turned the machine on. It was slow at first, which Chris loved. He moaned. The Dom increased the speed gradually until it was firing in and out of Chris at a speed that made the sub cry out.

As Peter cooked, he heard the screams from the basement and was glad that there wasn't another house close by. An hour passed before dinner was completely done and Peter finally went to check on Chris who was issuing a constant stream of grunts and moans. There was quite a bit of cum on the floor, which impressed Peter for some reason. Chris was shaking as Peter turned off the machine and lifted Chris off of it, untying him in the process. The sub was drenched in sweat. Peter popped the tail plug into Chris and pushed him down to all fours. "In this house, we clean up after ourselves," he chuckled, pointing to blobs of cum. Chris licked them up before Peter attached the leash and led him upstairs. "I hope you didn't spoil your dinner!"

The scent of the food Peter prepared nearly smacked Chris in the face. Instantly his stomach began to gurgle. There was steak, mashed potatoes, corn on the cob, and a bowl of salad. "I'm going to be nice and let you eat at the table with me tonight," Peter announced, taking the plug out of Chris. Peter poured two glasses of red wine and brought them to the table as Chris surveyed the feast in front of him.

"It looks and smells so good, sir!" Chris exclaimed as he waited for Peter to sit so they could begin the meal.

They ate in silence for several minutes before Peter finally said, "Are you ever going to ask me how I did it?"

Chris was confused. "Did what?"

"Robbed all those banks. You _are_ still going to take me into custody right?" Peter replied.

Chris smirked, chewing slowly on some steak. "Yes I am. How _did_ you do it?"

"Weaknesses. Everyone and everything has them. They can be hard to figure out, but once you do, you can exploit them… the world is yours to command," Peter said simply.

"That's very Machiavellian," Chris pointed out.

"That's survival. Don't you think that animals in the wild do the same? There are insects that have evolved patterns that play on weaknesses in their predators' eyesight. The predator sees them, mistakes them for a twig, or a different insect that's poisonous, so they get left alone," Peter grinned. "Do you want to know your weakness?"

Chris's smirk faded nearly instantly. He swallowed. "Why not?"

"You've made your career on being this tough, by the book agent, yet you fail to recognize the extreme ruthlessness in your nature. Those you've stepped on to get to where you are… you don't see it as that. You see it as your own superiority. Your self-inflated ego leaves you vulnerable," Peter said.

"Vulnerable to what, exactly?" Chris asked.

"Me."

"What makes you say that?"

"How about the fact that you're tasked with catching me; yet we're dining as good friends? Despite the years of training you've been given to take down those you're catching, you've let me put you in a collar, hang you from a ceiling and beat you nearly senseless, and take your virginity. The person you stepped on the most in your climb to the top was yourself, Chris," Peter explained. "You repressed these urges in yourself. You've made yourself out to be a leader, yet you suggested allowing me to fuck you at any point in this week without asking your permission first. That doesn't sound like someone born to lead. It sounds like someone who born to serve."

"I serve my country!" Chris exclaimed defensively.

"And when do you serve yourself?" Peter asked.

That question caught Chris off guard. His own needs had been neglected throughout his marriage. He had bottled them down so much that the moment Peter suggested their arrangement, he jumped at the idea. But he also knew what Peter was doing. He was manipulating. _It's what these types do_, he told himself.

Peter laughed, narrowing his eyes. "Even now, you're resisting me. You're falling back to your training because it's what you know you're supposed to do, rather than seeing the fact that you like being fucked by me… you like the things I've done to you and you like the fact that _I'm_ the one who's done them to you and just succumbing to that feeling. I pity you, Chris. I really do."

"How do you know I haven't pulled you along this entire time?" Chris asked. "We both know I crave these things sexually. How do you know I don't have you right where I want you and am just buying my time?"

Cocking his head, Peter's lips curled maliciously. "Because you want me on top of and inside you and right now, I'm neither."

Chris made every effort he could not to show any reaction to that statement. Peter was right. He was 10,000% right and that realization horrified Chris. These were the beginning stages of Stockholm Syndrome. He recognized the signs, yet he was almost helpless to resist. He still had four more days with Peter and while he trusted Peter to keep up with his end of the bargain, he wasn't sure he wanted this to end. He trusted Peter more than he trusted himself. This was his weakness.

* * *

**A/N**: Thanks for reading! Let me know what you thought! While still keeping up with the porn, I'm going to be adding a little more plot here and there. I also might be adding a few more characters from the series. This story is taking on a life of its own!


	6. Chapter 6

His face was buried into the pillow as Peter pounded himself into his hole. It felt comfortable. It felt right. Chris's mind played the conversation they had during dinner over and over again.

"_How do you know I don't have you right where I want you and am just buying my time?_"

"_Because you want me on top of and inside you and right now I'm neither._"

At the moment, Peter _was_ on top of and inside him and he enjoyed it so much. Peter groaned, slamming himself into Chris one last time as the increasingly familiar sensation of his Dom blasting inside him issued from his backside. Peter pulled out of him, quickly replacing his cock with the tail plug. Peter collapsed beside him. Chris crawled to the end of the bed, pulling his blanket over him and they fell asleep.

Chris woke up the following morning as Peter was attaching the leash to his collar. On all fours, he was led outside to use the restroom then he was brought back in. "You're smelling pretty ripe. We need to give you a bath," Peter said, leading Chris into the bathroom and turning on the shower. He unhooked the collar, pulling Chris to his feet. Peter pushed him into the shower. The hot water felt great on his skin. Honestly, he had been craving a shower. All the sex and sweating was making Chris feel a bit gross. Chris reached for the shampoo as Peter stepped in to join him. There was a sharp sting as Chris slapped his hand away from the bottle. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" he demanded.

"I was going to wash my hair, sir," Chris said softly.

Peter's brows furrowed. Something was wrong. Chris seemed dazed, almost as though he wasn't all the way there. His normally serious face just looked sad and he was averting his gaze from the Dom. "Something on your mind, Chris?" Peter asked, his voice softening greatly.

_Yes!_ Chris screamed inside his head. He was still reeling from their conversation last night. He had a few more days left to serve Peter, then he was going to get everything he ever wanted, yet he wasn't as excited about it as he should have been. In fact, he was a little sad. Peter placed a finger under Chris's chin, guiding him until their eyes met. "Tell me what's wrong," Peter ordered.

"Once I've turned you in, what do I do?" Chris asked. "Do I go back to living alone in my apartment watching porn all my life? Do I find another Dom? How would I even do that?"

The confusion and worry were palpable. Peter nearly shivered with glee. He was accepting his role as a submissive and trying to find a way to remain in that position. Even asking these questions boded well for his future in serving other men. "Try not to worry so much, Chris," Peter said. "You'll get wrinkles."

Chris chuckled, remembering when Peter used that line on him during their phone call. The smile faded quickly though. "I'm lost, sir."

Peter sighed, pulling Chris close to him. He kissed the sub's forehead. "You'll do what feels right for you. If that means finding another man to serve, then go for it. You've exceeded all of my expectations so far, I'm sure you'll do the same to someone else. But don't think about that right now because right now, you're mine. You serve me." Chris nodded against Peter's chest. "And who knows? Maybe when I'm eligible for parole in 30 years, we can pick this back up."

Chris sighed. Peter didn't understand. Everything he was doing right then was so taboo because Peter was the enemy… the prey in the hunt that had been going on for years now. He shouldn't enjoy any of this because none of it should be happening. Yet he knew that in a matter of days, it would end. It bothered him.

The rest of the shower was silent. Peter was rather rough in the way he manipulated his sub's body, taking great care to ensure that he had personally cleaned every square inch of the sub. By the time it was over, Chris felt somewhat violated… and it was an amazing.

Chris watched as Peter then soaped up his own body in a display that was more for Chris's erotic pleasure than Peter's hygienic needs. Chris's eyes never left the beautiful, hairy, muscle-clad body in front of him, wanting the image to burn itself into his psyche. It would need to last him a very long time.

When he was clean, Peter turned off the water and grabbed two towels, drying Chris off. As Peter took care of himself, Chris examined his face in the mirror. Peter walked up behind him. "You're getting a little scruffy," he pointed out.

"I can shave it if you want, sir," Chris replied.

"No!" Peter replied instantly. "Never ruin yourself like that. It looks amazing. It makes me want to fuck you."

"Respectfully, sir," Chris said, "You often want to fuck me."

Peter laughed, "That's true. But you don't mind, do you?"

"No sir," Chris said. "I don't."

Peter groped Chris's ass, swatting it a few times. "I think I'm going to leave the plug out of you today. You're starting to feel a little loose."

Chris blushed. "Sir, I've noticed that you almost always put the plug in me after you orgasm. Why is that?"

"Because you're my bitch," Peter replied simply. "When an alpha wolf fucks his bitch, his penis will expand toward the base. They call it a 'knot'. It keeps his sperm inside her longer to help ensure she'll get pregnant with his pups. We don't have that, but I still want you to feel me inside you. I want you to know who first claimed that hole. And even if you serve another guy when this is done, you'll always remember what it was like to feel me."

"So it's all pretty much psychological then?" Chris clarified.

Peter laughed at that simplification. "Yeah. It's pretty much psychological. Now shut up. I'm going to fuck you. The only thing I want to hear from you is how much you love my cock in your hole." He lubed his dick and pushed into Chris, causing the sub to moan loudly. The moans increased in volume as Peter increased his speed. Every few thrusts would hit Chris's prostate and pleasure would zing through his body. Peter began smacking Chris's ass cheeks, causing him to tense, adding to the Dom's enjoyment of his sub. Right as Chris was starting to cramp, Peter came. He stayed planted firmly inside the sub as he fastened the collar. Peter then grabbed a new toothbrush, tearing it out of the packaging with ease. He began brushing the sib's teeth, holding him by the throat with one hand and roughly scouring his mouth with the other. The Dom had Chris spit out the tooth paste and watch as he brushed his own teeth. When he was done, he rinsed his mouth several times using a plastic cup, then filled it with water one last time before swishing that water in his mouth and spitting it into Chris's, so he could rinse out the remnants of the toothpaste. It was by far the most invasive and sexual tooth brushing experiences Chris ever had.

Peter backed up, his softening cock falling out of Chris as his cum began dribbling out. It was a beautiful sight, Peter thought. He was only drawn away from the view by the sounds of their stomachs growling, reminding him that they hadn't yet eaten breakfast. Peter walked out and began preparing their meal.

It felt odd for Chris to be walking out to the kitchen, his hole vacant. He realized that he didn't like it. He had something inside him consistently for 48 hours, and now he just felt useless without his hole being used for something… though he was certain that Chris would find some uses for it once they were done.

Peter allowed Chris to sit at the table with him again, provided he agree to lick up anything that was left on the chair when they were done, and that the sub give him a blow job after breakfast. Both were conditions Chris could live with. They ate in silence and after, Chris filled his end of the bargain and Peter led Chris back into the bedroom where he pushed the sub onto the bed, cuffing him to the headboard.

Peter climbed on top of his sub. "I've decided that you've earned a little present," he announced as he rolled a condom onto the sub's cock and lubed it. He straddled the slender sub, positioning his cock so that it went straight into the Dom. Both men gasped as the head broke through. Peter stared into Chris's eyes as he bounced up and down on the sub's dick at the pace he most preferred. Chris had never felt anything like it before. Even with the condom, Peter felt so tight and warm… he knew he wouldn't last long.

"Sir," Chris moaned. "You feel great…" Peter lifted himself all the way off, then came back down onto the sub's dick, unintelligible grunts and swear words issued from the sub until he screamed out, filling the condom. Still Peter continued, leisurely stroking himself as he bounced up and down.

Chris's cock became incredibly sensitive. It almost hurt to have Peter's tight as rubbing up and down on it. He gritted his teeth, unable to bask in the afterglow of his orgasm. Peter didn't like riding Chris's dick as much as Chris liked riding Peter's, still, he bounced away, ignoring the gritted teeth and clenching fists, not stopping until he came again fifteen minutes later. Tears were running down the sides of Chris's face. His cock was so sensitive by that point, and he had cum three times into that condom. Chris might have known that this was another way to torment him, still, he enjoyed the lack of control he felt. Peter several thick ropes onto Chris's hairy stomach, chest, and chin. As he pulled off, Chris's already waning cock flopped lazily out of him and the Dom released one of his sub's hands, ordering him to swallow the cum on his body. Chris did so without hesitation. It wasn't the best flavor in the world, but he'd had so much of it in the last few days, he barely noticed it anymore.

"There is a cost to every Dom/sub interaction," Peter said as he freed Chris's other arm. "Every time you submit yourself, you give your Dom another little piece of you that you can't get back. Whether you do it consciously or unconsciously, you pay a price. The better the reward, the higher the price. That's your lesson for today. Make sure that you are willing to pay the price your Dom is asking. If you're not, let him know… but know that there's a cost to that as well."

* * *

A/N: This chapter may seem like it was only porn, but there's actually some plot in it, I promise! Next chapter we're going to see Derek and Stiles again. Let me know what you thought, and feel free to send kink suggestions to my Tumblr at .com


	7. Chapter 7

Warning: This chapter is a bit dark…

* * *

"The program is done," Derek announced. Stiles was at the kitchen table reading and preparing for a case he was trying the next day.

Stiles laid down his file looking up at his husband. "Will it find your uncle?"

Derek shrugged. "Peter has had a long time to perfect his version of DOLOS. I don't even know that this will be able to track it." Derek poured himself a glass of scotch and sat across from Stiles. There were dark circles under his eyes. He hadn't slept much since he began writing the program. The amber liquid went down easily. "He made the robbery seem like it was coming from Argent's computer. I still haven't figured out how he did it. Nothing about this makes sense."

"It's not our problem anymore, Derek," Stiles replied. "Give the program to the agent and let's call it a day. They're after Peter, not you."

Derek stared at his glass, running his finger absentmindedly around the rim. "I just wish I understood how he did it."

"In law school, we had a phrase…" Stiles started. Derek raised his eyebrow, readying himself for Stiles' wisdom. "It went something along the lines of: Go to sleep. You're tired."

Derek laughed, nodding. "But what if it's not enough to find Peter?"

"Again, that's not our problem!" Stiles insisted. "Your job was to write that program and you did it. Legally speaking, you're off the hook."

Derek got up and walked around the table. He rubbed Stiles' shoulders and bent over, kissing the top of his head. "You're right. I need to stop worrying about stupid shit. I'm going to head up to bed. You coming up?"

"I need to finish this," Stiles said before looking up and catching the glimmer in his husband's eye. "OH… you mean… I'll be right there!" Derek laughed and climbed up the stairs, awaiting his husband's company.

* * *

"You trust me, right?" Peter asked. Chris gulped.

"I always feel nervous when you ask me that," he stammered.

"It will be the best orgasm you've ever had," Peter promised.

That only scared Chris more. The week had flown by. Peter had taken him to depths so profound he never thought he'd find his way back, and soaring to heights that made Chris think he'd touched the heavens. He had a few marks and bruises that were taking their time to heal, but Peter hadn't steered him wrong yet. He nodded. "I trust you." Once again, he was being hoisted into the air. The cat-o-nine-tails stung as its leather straps snaked across his skin, he cried out as his cock hardened.

Peter stopped whipping long enough to thrust into his hanging sub a few times before he resumed the beating. Pain was something that Chris had come to enjoy even more than pleasure. The endorphins his body released were addictive and the way Peter's muscles strained as he inflicted each and every blow was a truly sublime sight. By the time Peter was done with the whip, nearly every inch of Chris's skin was red and his cock was drooling precum. He grunted as Peter once again entered him. He lost track of the thrusts, grunting as they got more and more rapid before Peter finished in him and unhooked him.

Once Chris was flat on his feet, he leaned backwards into Peter's embrace, gasping as Peter reached around and grasped his neglected cock. He tossed his head back onto Peter's shoulder, moaning his thanks at the attention. Peter's hand came up, grabbing his neck tightly. Chris grinned as Peter stroked even faster.

However, the grip became tighter still, but he trusted Peter and went along with it, ready to call out the safe word if he needed to. Peter released him for a moment, pulling a mirror up to them. "I want you to see what you look like when you cum," Peter whispered in his ear as he resumed, gripping the sub's neck tightly in the nook of his elbow. His oxygen intake was being severely affected. Peter squeezed tighter still with every breath he took. It was as if he had become a boa. Chris watched Peter's face. It was unreadable as it stared at the reflection. Even tighter. Chris really couldn't breathe anymore. He tried to speak… to say the safe word… His hands came up, scratching at Peter's arms, trying to pull them off of him, but Peter was stronger than him. He thrashed a bit, but that made it worse and Peter squeezed harder, never stopping the ever increasing speed of his strokes. Something was off. Something was most definitely wrong.

Chris could see the panic in his own eyes reflected plainly back at him in the mirror. His parasympathetic nervous system was kicking in. He fought harder and Peter's grip became even more vice-like. Chris was desperate for oxygen. At last his body allowed him to orgasm. The rush was nothing he had ever felt before.

Peter watched as Chris struggled. The safe word hadn't yet been used, but the thought occurred to him. His week with Chris was going to be coming to an end soon and then he'd spend at minimum, a good twenty years in jail. He'd be an old man by the time he saw freedom again. Chris was the only one who could turn him in. He was the only loose end. The FBI would never find him. They likely already assumed Chris was dead. If the body showed up somewhere, Peter would surely be wanted for the murder, but he wouldn't get caught. Ever. He was smart enough to literally run for the rest of his life. Even if they found this house, he had dozens others in different parts of the country. Chris clawed at him, desperate for oxygen. Peter stared into his eyes. He had his freedom in his hands. Chris jerked violently mouthing the words "I trusted you!" and then stopped.

* * *

"Sir, you might want to see this," a lower level agent said, knocking on Agent Whittemore's office. "They found Director Argent's phone in Palo Alto."

"Any sign of the Director?" Whittemore demanded. He had his agents scouring every banking network that had been hacked by DOLOS using the program Derek Hale created. They'd found evidence of a modified version of DOLOS on every single one of them. Each attempt at tracing it to a source resulted in the accidental detonation of the virus. They had wiped out three different networks and now the government had to help pay for the damage. His superiors were breathing down his neck at that. Hale and his husband had been incredibly unhelpful, stating that their duty had been done and they wanted no more of it. Congress was starting to watch what was happening. Everything was dissolving around Jackson and there was nothing he could do about it.

The Sheriff felt bad for the agent and tried to persuade his son to help. Derek simply couldn't figure out how to make the program do what they needed without detonating it. The entire Cyber Crimes division of the Bureau and even the CIA were working on this. The Pentagon had even lent some of its top Cyber Terrorism specialists to the cause. Peter Hale was a computer genius… none of them would begrudge him that.

* * *

The pulse was weak. So weak he almost thought it wasn't there. Peter couldn't let Chris die. He couldn't break that promise. He performed CPR, trying desperately to revive his sub. Freedom wasn't worth it.

It took him several tries, but finally, he was able to revive Chris who began gasping for breath. Peter backed up, ashamed of himself as Chris slowly tried to sit up, holding his bruised neck. He stared accusingly at the Dom who shook his head. "I'm sorry, Chris…"

"Everything you asked me to do… I followed every order," Chris said as he got his breath back. "I trusted you. Every single time. I trusted you. Why?"

Peter stared at the silver gray eyes. He could see the hurt in them. "I don't know…"

"Bullshit!" Chris screamed. "Tell me the truth! Why?"

Peter shook his head. "I don't know what came over me, Chris. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry…" Chris studied the Dom. He had conducted thousands of interrogations in his career. Never before had he seen such guilt and regret. Adrenaline was coursing through his veins. "Are you alright?" Peter whispered, averting his eyes. He couldn't stomach what he had done.

"Are you?" Chris asked. The sight before him was a far cry from the confident, sexy Dom he had served during the past week.

"No," Peter replied softly. "I broke the most important rule… I…I'm sorry."

Chris managed to get to his feet and slowly approached Peter. Peter looked up, fear in his eyes. "What happened?" Chris demanded.

Peter's eyes searched around for something to look at other than Chris. "I had a thought that I would be able to get away with everything if you didn't turn me in. I would live with my freedom. But then you went still. I snapped out of it immediately, I promise. I couldn't let your last thoughts be that I betrayed you. Please forgive me."

"Trust is the foundation…" Chris breathed. "You could have let me die." Chris reached up, placing a hand on Peter's chest.

"I almost killed you!" Peter corrected, moving the hand away.

Chris examined Peter's face. The Dom still kept his gaze averted. He couldn't look at the bruises on Chris's neck. They hurt him too much. "You fucked up. But you did your best to fix it." Again, Chris tried to touch Peter, but the larger man grabbed Chris's wrist before he could.

"What are you doing?"

"I forgive you, Peter."

"You shouldn't. I don't," Peter replied.

"This is the first time you've doubted yourself in a long time, isn't it?" Chris asked. Peter nodded. "I have doubted myself every day for years. Most of my life, really. This is the one thing I've been sure about in a long time."

"You sound ridiculous," Peter said dismissively.

"Not as much as you do," Chris replied. "I've never felt more free or in tune with myself than I have this week. Yet, I would never have let myself experience this if it hadn't been for you. I don't trust anything. Not even myself. But I trust you. We don't get many second chances, Peter. Take this one."

Peter finally allowed his eyes to rest on the sub, surveying the damage. Deep purple blotches were developing on the rugged skin. "You're not right, my pet…" he muttered. Leaning down, he kissed Chris urgently.

* * *

Their final day. They fucked nonstop. By the end of it, Chris was so slick with Peter's cum that they didn't even need lube. Neither of them could get enough and neither of them wanted it to end. Chris tried to bring up the idea of letting it continue, but Peter interrupted him by shoving his dick in the sub's mouth. He serviced Peter, resenting the fact that he had to stop.

They showered separately. Chris took a long time. Peter assumed that since he was no longer obligated to serve, he was trying to return to his previous appearance. He was shocked to see Chris emerge in the same outfit he had been abducted in. The only difference was the rugged expanse of facial hair. "You didn't shave…" Peter observed.

"You said it makes you want to fuck me when I don't," Chris replied suggestively.

Peter stiffened. This was much harder than he thought it would be. He knew Chris would back out. So he had a plan. He was going to drop Chris off in a string of abandoned warehouses on the outskirts of Beacon Hills and let the Sheriff's office know, that way they would arrest him instead.

They rode in silence. Hours later, they arrived. Peter ditched the car in one warehouse and the two walked to the other. "Why are we here?" Chris asked.

"Officers will be arriving soon. I figured this would make it seem like you hunted me back. I need you to draw your weapon on me," Peter replied.

The gun felt alien in the agent's hand as he pointed it at his prey. "Peter, please..." Chris begged. "Run now."

"It'll cost you everything. I made a deal. Trust is the cornerstone..." Peter replied, shaking his head and staring into the familiar eyes.

Red and blue lights began to flash around them. They weren't alone anymore. It was only a matter of time.

"I'll figure something out. Please don't make me do this!" Chris's hand was shaking as the tears ran down his cheeks. "Sir, please..."

"This will get you everything you've ever wanted," Peter said.

"No it won't!" Chris said. "I want you. I want to _be yours_! Please. Run. I'll come up with something. If you go to prison… that's the end of us and I… I can't. I'll have to testify against you. Don't make me be the one who puts you… just please run, Peter."

"Are you sure you'll be alright?" Peter asked, approaching his sub.

Chris shook his head. "Not at all."

Peter caressed the tear-stained cheek. "You were great, my pet..." he whispered, leaving a kiss on Chris's lips.

"I'll find you," Chris promised as their lips separated.

Peter turned and ran. "I'm counting on it," he called before disappearing into the pitch darkness.

"FREEZE!" Agent Whittemore yelled. Chris wiped his eyes and swallowed all the emotion he'd been feeling. He dropped his weapon and raised his arms, turning around.

"Don't shoot. Federal Agent!" he announced.

Whittemore lowered his gun. "Where is Hale?"

"He got away."

"How? Your message said you had him in custody," Whittemore demanded.

"He escaped. The man robbed banks in plain daylight. One FBI agent isn't going to be enough to take him down," Chris snapped. "Now stop interrogating me like I'm a criminal. Clear out!"

Chris followed the officers and agents back to the cars. He felt something strange in his pocket. Once he was back in his hotel, he pulled it out. There was a note folded up. Inside was a key. Written on the note were coordinates and the words "I will see you soon, my pet." Chris pulled up his computer and typed the coordinates in and smiled.

It looked like he was headed to Sacramento.

* * *

**A/N**: So I thought this was the end… but I was wrong. There's going to be at least one or two more new chapters. I hoped you liked this one! Please give me feedback! You can also send me your feedback and ideas in my Tumblr askbox. The url is .com Until next time!


	8. Chapter 8

Chris stared straight ahead as Jackson circled him like a wolf circling his prey. "A week," he said. The accusatory tone in his voice was not unnoticed by Chris. "You have bruises on your neck. You were gone a week. You say you were chasing him. I don't think I need to tell you that there are more holes in your story than a sponge."

Chris smiled, finally letting his gaze rest on the agent. "Come up with that metaphor all on your own? Good job, Jackson!"

Jackson's lip curled in anger. "You need to start making sense soon because suddenly, you're looking a bit suspicious. So I'd knock off the jokes if I were you, Chris."

"It's _Director Argent_ to you… you pompous ass!" Chris snarled. "Now if you are done with this little farce you call an interrogation, I'm going to leave now. I have good intelligence telling me he's headed towards San Diego. Since I'm no longer missing, I'm back in charge of this investigation."

"Says who?" Jackson challenged.

"SAYS ME!" Chris roared. "Now get the fuck out of my sight!"

Jackson's nostrils flared, but he obeyed the order. Chris had effectively deterred them a little longer. He returned to his hotel room and packed his things. He needed to get to Sacramento. He missed his home.

The GPS brought him to a nondescript neighborhood in the Rocklin area of Sacramento, not far from his house.

As he drove up to the large blue two-story house, he could feel his heart start beating faster. It had been nearly two weeks since he'd seen Peter. He couldn't believe how much he missed him.

Taking the key out, he turned it several times in his fingers before cutting his engine and approaching the front door. The grass was a little overgrown and the garden was becoming a weed sanctuary, but none of that mattered.

He slid the key into the lock and turned it, slowly opening the door. When it was shut behind him, he called out, "Peter? It's me!" He stepped into the living room. Everything was decorated in the same ultra-modern design scheme as the other house. "Peter? Where are you?" he called, exploring further. Chris heard movement, causing him to freeze.

Peter descended the stairs. Chris thought how strange it was to see him clothed. Peter smiled broadly as he approached Chris, quickly wrapping his arms around the agent. Chris melted into the embrace, loving the familiarity of it: the way Peter smelled, felt, the way his kisses tasted. He was home. "How much time do we have, my pet?" Peter asked when their kiss broke.

"The rest of today and all day tomorrow. I need to be at the San Diego office by Wednesday," Chris replied. He hated having such little time to spend with Peter. His two weeks had been maddening. All he thought about was his Dom. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Peter. His dreams had been a constant replay of their week together.

Peter caressed the side of Chris' face. "Let's not waste any more time then," he said and ordered Chris to strip. Soon both men were naked and Peter was lubing himself, getting ready to fuck Chris. Peter moaned as he felt Chris stretching around him, tightly hugging his shaft as he slowly pushed in. He felt much tighter than he had last time and Peter guessed that Chris hadn't been penetrated since the last time they had sex. It wasn't long before Peter was blasting his essence into his sub.

Peter put Chris' collar back on, attached the leash and put in the tail plug. Chris loved it. Peter led the sub upstairs and into the bed. Chris struggled to find a comfortable way to sit, being somewhat out of practice in using the tail. When he managed, Peter stared at him intensely. After enough time had passed to make Chris feel incredibly awkward, he finally asked, "Sir… is everything alright?"

Peter shook his head. "How is this supposed to operate?" he asked.

Chris shrugged. "I figured we would make it up as we go. You tell me where you're going next and I lead them somewhere about 50 miles away and we chase each other around the country."

"That's not what I meant, my pet," Peter said. "You… as my sub. How is this supposed to work? You _do_ still want to be my submissive, right?"

Chris nodded emphatically, "Yes! Of course, sir!"

"Then the rules need to change," he said. "I need to know that you've fully submitted yourself to me."

"What did you have in mind, sir?" Chris asked.

"Is your computer in your car?" Peter asked. Chris nodded. "Good. When was the last time you came?"

"Yesterday, sir," Chris replied timidly.

"Stay here," Peter ordered. He got up and pulled on a pair of sweat pants and disappeared for nearly a half an hour. When he returned, he handed Chris his laptop. "Your computer can no longer be used to find porn. Instead, I've put a few videos of us and several pictures of me. You'll look at that if you must, but it won't really be a problem because I'm going to put you in a chastity device."

The sub's eyes widened in fear. "Why, sir?"

"Because it will give you better incentive to come find me," Peter said, entirely dismissive of his sub's alarm. "And it will ensure you will submit only to me." Chris nodded. He was disappointed at the flippant nature in which Peter regarded his resistance to the device. What if they got caught before Peter could remove it? Peter saw the disappointment on his sub's face. He pulled the sub into his arms, caressing his back. "Our relationship is not going to be easy or conventional," he said softly. "It's going to strain you in ways that will make our week together seem easy. There will be times when what I do will make me seem like a selfish Dom. There will be times when you will teeter on the brink of insanity and I won't be there for you and I'm sorry about that." He used his hand to ensure that Chris was looking directly into his eyes. "But I need you to know that it doesn't mean I don't care about you."

Chris nodded, unable to speak over the lump in his throat. He let Peter fasten the device, whimpering when the lock was closed. Peter kissed the sub. "I will unlock it every time we're together," Peter promised.

"Sir, how will I…" Chris started to ask. His dick was completely encased in the device.

"It will let you pee if you need. And I want you to wear a butt plug all day long at least twice a week and sleep with the tail in every night," Peter said. "I want to train you… train your mind to view your hole as your primary sexual organ. Will you do that for me?"

"I don't see that I have a choice," Chris admitted.

"You do," Peter corrected him. "You _always_ have a choice, Chris. _Always_."

"What if this is too much, sir?"

Peter swallowed. "Then you can call it off. You're not my prisoner."

"If I call it off, do I lose you?" Chris asked. Peter nodded and the sub jumped off the bed in anger. "How is that fair to me?" he shouted.

"Chris, calm down," Peter ordered, his voice level.

"NO!" Chris screamed. "Do you know what kind of trouble I could be in? I sacrificed everything for you!"

"I know, Chris… please," Peter said, standing up. He put his arms around Chris who fought him.

"What we do… I like it. But I like it because it's with _you_. How is it fair to me that I lose everything because _you_ set too many requirements. As fucked up as it is, Peter… I love you," Chris said, unable to bring himself to look at Peter.

Peter squeezed Chris. "I love you, too," he whispered. "I just don't know another way to show it."

"Try," Chris whispered.

* * *

**A/N**: Thank you for reading... this chapter was a bit more fluff than anything else. The next one will be nice and sexy, I promise. Let me know what you think!


	9. Chapter 9

Warning: This chapter is dark... I don't even entirely know how this happened. And someone will die.

* * *

Chris ached. He was used to being able to take care of himself at least once a day and with the chastity device locked into place, he couldn't and it was beginning to take its toll on him psychologically. Jackson hadn't shown up for work in the past week, putting a higher workload on him. That compounded with the fact that he wasn't entirely sure where he was going to head next to find Peter made him increasingly frustrated at life itself. Before he left the house in Sacramento, Peter once again slipped in a note and a key. This time, the note didn't have coordinates. It had a cypher… one thing he had never been too good at.

As he sat on his computer, trying to find a way to crack the code, a window popped up.

'_hey_'

Chris was intrigued so he responded. '_Who is this?'_

'_you've already forgotten me?_'

'_No seriously. Who is this?_'

'_I'm heartbroken, my pet_'

Chris nearly jumped out of his chair. It was Peter. Quickly he tapped out a reply.

'_I can't figure out the code. And how did you get my IM info?_'

'_I had your computer for 30 mins. I made sure I could monitor you from wherever I am. I know that you've tried to look at porn a few times. I'll have to punish you for that._'

'_I'm dying here, Peter. I can barely think straight. I don't know that I can take this device much longer._'

'_I'll give you a hint to find me, then…_'

'_Please do!_'

'_Terre de grâce_'

'_On my way._'

That was so much easier than before. Graceland. Memphis. He was headed to Tennessee. Immediately he contacted the Memphis office and booked his flight, and packed his bags. Before leaving, he put in his daily wear plug, but also packed the tail, knowing how much Peter enjoyed using it.

* * *

The flight seemed to take forever. The already uncomfortable seats were made more uncomfortable by his growing sexual frustration and the fact he had a glass object quite literally up his ass. He rented a car. His phone buzzed so he checked it. A strange number had texted him with a link. Figuring it might be Peter, he clicked it and a GPS app opened, bringing him to where he needed to go.

Chris actually enjoyed the sights of his drive, but was more excited when the smooth female voice announced "You have reached your destination." He pulled into the driveway and grabbed his luggage, making a beeline for the door. Once the door was closed behind him, Peter greeted him in the foyer, hungrily attacking his sub's mouth.

Chris' cock strained painfully against the device, trying to get erect. "Strip," Peter ordered when he finally broke away. Ever obedient, Chris quickly took off all of his clothes. Peter fumbled through a ring of keys before finding the one that unlocked the cage around his sub's cock. The sub audibly sighed in relief. He had gone a month without using his cock for anything other than urinating and his balls felt swollen and heavy. He was also horny as hell. Peter dropped to his knees in front of his sub, wrapping his hot mouth around the throbbing dick.

Struggling to find something to hold on to, Chris finally managed to steady himself against a wall as the sensations of his blowjob drove him wild. "Peter… I'm close…" he managed to grunt, after only about a minute into it. He tossed his head back, screaming his Dom's name as he fired the largest load he had ever created into Peter's throat.

Peter struggled, but managed to swallow down everything Chris fed him. He was extremely proud of Chris for making it as long as he did without finding a way to pick the lock.

Pulling the plug out of Chris, Peter turned his sub around, unbuckled his pants and quickly thrust himself into the awaiting hole. As Peter took his pleasure, Chris relished the proximity to the man who occupied the majority of his thoughts. When Peter finished, he pulled out and kissed Chris again. "I missed you, my pet," he whispered.

"I missed you, too, sir," Chris replied.

"I was beginning to think you gave up on me," Peter said, pulling off his clothes, revealing a black leather harness over his chest. Chris licked his lips at the sight. "I thought you might like it…" Peter mused as he noticed the movement of his sub's tongue. "I have a surprise for you in the basement, though…"

Chris raised his eyebrow. Usually Peter's surprises involved pain. He wanted his surprise. As they descended into the basement, Chris couldn't help but notice the smell of sex and felt a stab of jealousy. That quickly faded into alarm as he saw a naked, bruised, and bloody man suspended in the air. Alarm turned into panic when closer examination proved that man to be Jackson. "Peter what have you done?" Chris asked, unable to take his eyes off the agent.

Peter approached Jackson confidently. "You don't have to worry. He won't be telling anyone about us. He had collected quite a bit of evidence, though. He was preparing to bring you in as an accessory to my crimes. I intercepted him, though, thanks to a computer program I modified from my nephew."

Chris approached Jackson carefully. Deep purple and blue blotches dotted his colleague's skin. He was locked in a more painful-looking chastity device that had inward-facing spikes and a piece that actually went into Jackson's urethra. Jackson stared blankly at the floor. "Are you alright, Agent Whittemore?" Chris asked, pulling the agent's face up so they were eye-to-eye.

"I knew you were a fucking traitor," Jackson growled and spat in Chris' face. Instantly, Peter knocked Chris out of the way and drove a brutal uppercut into Jackson's stomach. The prisoner coughed a sick, hacking cough and whimpered as another punch landed him in the face.

"PETER STOP!" Chris screamed, hurrying to put himself between his Dom and his colleague.

Peter glared over Chris, staring at Jackson. "You treat him with the same respect you treat me. Do you understand, you fucking worm?"

"Yes sir," Jackson replied weakly.

"Peter, Can I talk to you upstairs?" Chris asked. Peter knew it was more of an order than a question. It felt odd for him to take an order from the man he loved, but he indulged the request.

When the door had closed behind them, Chris turned around and faced Peter.

"Did you rape him?" Chris demanded.

"I would never!" Peter replied, insulted at the accusation. "He submitted that to me quite willingly."

"You beat him up! I don't think I need to tell you that consent is looking a little iffy!" Chris growled.

"I did beat him up… but he was threatening to expose us. I did what I had to do to protect you," Peter said. "I don't regret it. And I recorded me and him fucking just in case he ever wants to try and out us."

Chris bit his lip. He was hurt by that. But that conversation was for another time. Right now, they had to deal with the fact that a Federal Agent was suspended naked below them. "I don't think you realize what kind of position this puts me in."

"No," Peter countered. "I think I do. You told me to try and love you better. This is it. Now let's go downstairs and enjoy him."

Chris was horrified. "You're a psychopath…"

Peter rolled his eyes, scoffing. "I'm a sociopath with psychopathic tendencies. If you're going to throw out terminology, at least use it correctly."

"That isn't any better," Chris replied. "This is wrong, Peter."

"He's happier this way!" Peter argued. "He was just as repressed as you were. The difference is, _he_ _broke_. I don't know how to piece him back together and to be honest, I don't really care to try! Now go downstairs and enjoy him."

As they went back downstairs, Chris felt sick to his stomach. He was, for the first time, truly horrified by Peter. He was disturbed both by what his Dom was capable of… and by what he was capable of bringing out of the sub. Chris watched as Peter took his position behind Jackson and thrust up into him.

Jackson was, aesthetically speaking, a remarkable specimen. If he hadn't been an arrogant prick and 18 years Chris' junior, he might have found himself somewhere on Chris' fantasy radar. Yet, the look of enjoyment on Jackson's face as Peter brutally shoved himself in and out made Chris believe that perhaps Jackson was completely consenting. It didn't help his jealousy to watch the man he loved fuck someone else, but it was animalistic and there was nothing sexy about it. It reminded him a lot of the porn he used to watch where one man dominated the other for the sexual thrill. It was pure power exchange. There was no emotion. It wasn't like when Peter and Chris had sex. Even when the majority of it relied on power exchange, there was an unspoken tenderness and love to it in the way Peter would kiss or caress his body. Grunts issuing from Jackson broke Chris from his thoughts as Peter emptied into him. "Here… you try," Peter ordered, stepping back.

"May I?" Chris asked, wanting permission from Jackson, not Peter. Chris had a hard time treating Jackson like a piece of meat. Sure, he was an asshole. Sure, Chris had occasionally wanted to punch the kid, but Jackson was a good agent.

Jackson nodded his permission and Chris slowly pushed into the slick, wet hole. He wondered if this is what he felt like during the first week he was with Peter. Jackson moaned and Peter chuckled as he circled them. "Worm, do you want to tell Chris what you told me? Or should I?" Peter hissed.

"Please don't make me," Jackson begged. Chris was lost in the sensations he was getting from his coworker, watching as his cock disappeared into him over and over.

"Fine then," Peter mused. "I'll tell him." Peter circled back around, wrapping his arms tightly around his sub. He whispered into Chris' ear. "Jackson admitted to watching you in the showers after physical trainings. Isn't that right, worm?"

Chris could see Jackson's neck, shoulders, and ears turning bright red in embarrassment as he nodded.

Chris held on as long as he could, but finally, his orgasm overtook him and he emptied himself into Jackson who shuddered at the sensation.

* * *

After taking turns fucking Jackson, Peter and Chris retreated back upstairs where they fell asleep together. The next morning, Chris had to get up and report to the Memphis Bureau office, leaving Peter alone with Jackson. It felt great to be so sexually sated, but he felt odd without his chastity device and plug.

Chris spent the day in meetings where he informed local authorities about Peter's MO, the most likely targets, and best ways to safe-guard the local banks from attacks. The local director pulled him aside as Chris packed his briefcase at the end of the day.

"Agent Jackson Whittemore is on your team in Sacramento isn't he?" the director asked.

"Yeah," Chris replied, continuing to organize the files of paperwork.

"He's been missing for over a week. Do you think it has something to do with the Hale case?"

Chris froze and considered his answer carefully. People didn't get to Director positions in the FBI because of sheer luck. They were trained in spotting lies. Luckily, Chris knew what to watch for. "It's too far outside of the MO. Hale is clever, he's calculating. I've studied him for a while and I think I know his head better than any of my predecessors on this case. Abducting an agent is too much of a risk. He wouldn't take it unless he knew the reward would be worth the time and effort. I think Agent Whittemore is just having an extended vacation. He worked tirelessly when I went underground to find him."

"That's not the way I heard it," the Director challenged.

"I couldn't risk it getting out. I was too close to nabbing him," Chris replied defensively.

The Director's eyes narrowed. "And yet he's still on the loose, all the way across the country."

"What can I say?" Chris replied. "He's got skill."

With that, Chris left the office and returned to the house.

Peter greeted him at the door with a kiss. "How was work, honey?" he asked with a sardonic tone.

"I bought you a little more time, at least…" Chris sighed, setting his briefcase on the table. For a moment, he had a glimpse at what his life could be like if he had a normal relationship with Peter. They ate dinner and Chris made a plate and brought it down to Jackson. Since he was still suspended from the ceiling, Chris fed it to him.

"How are you feeling?" Chris asked him between forkfuls.

"Liberated," Jackson replied. "I can see why you wanted to keep this going on…"

"You're fucked up," Chris laughed.

"I am… but he's amazing. It's like he can take you to places you never even realized you wanted to go," Jackson replied.

"Just remember that he's mine," Chris said possessively.

Jackson chuckled. Chris helped him drink some water. When he had swallowed it down, he said, "I'm sorry I was such an ass to you."

"I forgive you. I should have been better at covering my trail."

"I'll help you cover this from now on… just promise you'll let me in on it every once in a while," Jackson chuckled.

"I promise," Chris replied, feeding the last of his dinner to his colleague.

Peter soon joined them and they unhooked Jackson, allowing his burning muscles to relax for a few minutes. Peter fastened a rubber ball gag into Jackson's mouth as Chris pounded into him, relishing the sensation of the tight hole around his cock.

He and Peter traded off. Jackson made loud grunting noises and scratched the ground beneath him. His face and chest began to flush. Soon, he was making a choking sound and Chris realized, this had nothing to do with Peter fucking him. Jackson's eyes rolled in the back of his head as Chris fought to get the gag off of him. Even after the gag was unstrapped, Chris still struggled because Jackson was no seizing and his jaw was clenching down on it. Peter had moved to help hold Jackson tightly, trying to keep him from jerking too much during his seizure. After a few moments, Jackson's jaw slacked enough to get the ball gag out, but it was too late. There was no pulse.

Chris and Peter took turns trying to bring him back using CPR, but after 20 minutes, they gave up. Tears streamed down Chris' cheek. "I… what happened?" he asked, looking to Peter for guidance.

Peter just stared at Jackson's now calm face in shock. There was a slight rash around his lips. He was so in shock that Jackson had died in his arms that he almost didn't notice it. "Did he have any allergies?"

Chris wracked his brain. "He had a thing about using latex gloves if he went into the lab or to a crime scene. How is that important right now?"

Peter looked up at Chris, fear plastered onto his face. "Could he have been allergic to latex?"

Chris ran his fingers through Jackson's blonde hair. "I don't know?" he sobbed. "Possibly…" He held the gag in his other hand and it hit him… Jackson _had_ been allergic to latex. And they shoved a red rubber ball into his mouth. "Oh my God," Chris sobbed, feeling sick to his stomach. Peter had come to the same realization.

It hurt him to see Chris so torn up. Level heads had to prevail. "Get dressed and pack everything you brought here."

"We have to call—" Chris started.

"DAMNIT CHRIS! LISTEN TO ME!" Peter roared. "Pack your stuff. Wait for me in the car. Go!"

Chris did as he was told. As he sat in the driver's seat of his rental, he stared straight ahead, completely dazed. At minimum, he was guilty of involuntary manslaughter. He didn't know how he was going to get out of this one… or if he even could. He saw a light in one of the upstairs windows. He watched it. It wasn't constant like a normal light. It flickered. A little too much. Then he saw the flame lick the curtains. Peter rushed out of the front door carrying several suitcases and a shoulder bag, piling them into the back seat of the car. "Get in the passenger seat," Peter ordered.

Chris was too shell shocked to argue. He switched sides and soon they were speeding down highways Chris had never heard of. Everything he'd known and worked for was gone now. He couldn't turn back. He was now a fugitive. Just like Peter.

* * *

**A/N**: I'm so sorry. Like I said, I don't even know how this happened. Let me know what you think... and please don't hate me...


	10. Chapter 10

Stiles trudged to the door. It was much earlier than he wanted to be awake, but the incessant door ringing was somewhat difficult to sleep through. As he opened his door, he saw his dad flanked by two FBI agents. "Ah fuck," he groaned.

"Good morning, Stiles," his dad replied. "We need to talk to Derek."

Stiles sighed, not happy about this, but stepped aside, holding the door open. "Come on in," his tone was less than gracious. "I'll go get him."

This routine was getting very old and Stiles was getting very pissed. He went upstairs to their bedroom and roused his husband with a kiss. Derek groggily kissed back, the kiss becoming deeper and more passionate as Derek woke up. When the kiss finally broke, Derek smiled, "That's one hell of a way to wake up…"

"Good," Stiles replied. "I didn't want bad news to be the very first thing that happened to you this morning. The FBI is here. They need to talk to you."

"Ah fuck," Derek growled.

"That's exactly what I said," Stiles chuckled as he threw the blankets and sheets off his husband, pulling out some clothes for him.

"I need coffee," Derek lamented.

"It's so early that the coffee pot hasn't even kicked on yet," Stiles replied.

As the two of them joined the agents and the sheriff in the living room, one of the agents flashed his credentials. "Good morning, Mr. Hale. I'm Agent Mahealani "

"Is it?" Stiles asked, a sardonic tone. "Is it really?"

Agent Mahealani's eyes narrowed as his gaze shifted from Derek to Stiles. "You don't have to be here if you don't want."

"He's my lawyer, but he's not a morning person," Derek said apologetically, painfully squeezing Stiles' hand. "So what was so important that you woke us up at three in the morning?"

"There's an arson, a death, and a kidnapping all linked to your uncle," the agent replied.

"I don't know what you expect me to do at this point," Derek replied. "I haven't talked to him in years."

"We just need to know where he might be headed next. Does your family own any houses anywhere else in the country?" the agent asked.

"This is the only thing that was in my parents' estate. Stiles and I have combed through everything in the will," Derek replied.

"If you hear anything, please let us know. He's killed one federal agent and has another one with him," the agent pleaded. "The agent he killed, Agent Whittemore, was a very good friend of mine. And Director Argent is a great guy. We want to get him back alive."

"And my uncle?" Derek asked. "What will happen if he's caught?"

"He's going to go to prison. For the rest of his life," Mahealani said. "I'll make sure of that."

Derek nodded. The agents said their good-byes and made their way to the door. The Sheriff hugged Stiles and Derek. "I'm sorry for waking you. They just needed to talk to you guys."

"We understand," Stiles replied, hugging his father back. "How are you doing?"

"To be honest," the Sheriff grinned. "I'm just glad that he's not in Beacon Hills anymore. I'm merely helping the FBI coordinate. They're getting ready to send everyone back. No point in keeping an outpost here if he's in Tennessee."

"Why the hell would he be in Tennessee?" Stiles asked.

"Beats me," Derek shrugged. "Hopefully our lives can return to normal after this, though."

"Maybe you two can work on making me a grandfather before I'm dead," the Sheriff grinned.

Derek blushed and Stiles walked with his father, "Yeah, yeah… we'll get right on that."

* * *

Chris couldn't sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, even for a moment, he saw death. Twice in his life, he had watched someone die in his arms. The first had been his wife. Disease took her. Slowly. He watched for months as she fought, never giving up. Victoria never stopped fighting against it, but in the end, it was too much. He remembered how defiant she was, even in her last moments. She would be ashamed to see him now. And then there was Jackson. His fellow agent who died because of him.

He couldn't even watch TV. Peter's picture was plastered everywhere. Investigators assumed that Jackson and Chris had cornered Peter, and in an attempt to escape, Jackson was killed and Chris was abducted. Peter kept moving them from house to house and Chris had to wonder whose houses they were sleeping in, but at this point, the less he knew, the better for him.

Looking beside him, he saw Peter sleeping. He resented the man for being able to rest so peacefully. Peter's words echoed in his head. '_Our relationship isn't going to be easy or conventional… There will be times when you teeter on the brink of insanity…_' Chris couldn't believe how right Peter got it. Quietly, he got out of bed, pulling on a robe. He went downstairs and poured a cup of coffee, sighing in relief as the strong, black liquid danced across his tongue and down his throat. The sky was getting brighter. They were somewhere in Florida. Chris had stopped paying attention. At least they were at the beach this time, though. As Chris walked onto the back porch, he could see the beginnings of a sunrise. For the very first time in his life, he watched the sun rise over the ocean. And it made him sadder than he ever thought possible.

Chris was so lost in his melancholy that he didn't hear Peter walk up behind him. "I felt you tossing and turning all night," he said, wrapping his arms around Chris, who promptly squirmed out of them and walked back inside.

Peter was not accustomed to the cold shoulder. He knew Chris was having a difficult time adjusting, but he was becoming increasingly distant. Peter followed Chris back into the house and stopped him inside the kitchen. "What was that about?" Chris remained silent, his back turned to Peter. "Are you just going to ignore me?" Chris set down his coffee cup and walked back upstairs, climbing into the shower, turning the water on, and sitting down beneath the hot cascade. He knew he was being difficult; he just didn't want to talk. Peter followed him, climbing into the shower beside Chris. "This isn't your fault, my pet. But you can't just shut me out."

Chris sobbed against Peter's chest, salty tears mixing with the water. "How can you be okay with all of this?" Chris asked finally.

"I've been on the run for a long time. It comes easier for me," Peter replied.

"And I suppose death is easy for you, too?"

Peter sighed. "Jackson's death was an accident, Chris. Neither of us are at fault."

"You're wrong," said Chris, defiantly looking Peter in the eyes. "He died because of us. Our relationship. Because we can't keep it in our fucking pants long enough to see the suffering of those around us. We're toxic."

"Our relationship is fucked up… but I love you. I love you more than I've ever loved anyone," Peter said. "I told you… I have a hard time showing it. But I'm trying."

"It hurts so much…"

"Why do I get the feeling this is about more than just Jackson?" Peter asked, his voice soft.

"Peter, don't!" Chris warned.

"You don't have t tell me everything, but how can I be better for you if you don't tell me anything?"

"Seriously, please don't!" Chris begged.

"Was it your mother?" Peter asked. "A friend? Brother? Sister?"

"My wife," Chris answered, his body shaking with grief. "She died in my arms."

Peter nodded. "You miss her, don't you?"

"Every day," Chris replied. "I've let her down."

"How so?"

"By loving you."

"Would she want you to be happy?" Peter asked. Chris nodded. "And are you happy with me?" Again, Chris nodded. "Then honor her by being happy."

"It's not that easy."

"I know. But it's not going to be any easier with you moping around," Peter replied. Chris knew that Peter was right. He laid his head against Peter's chest again and Peter wrapped his arms around Chris. Eventually, Chris fell asleep, the water washing over them. Peter carefully picked Chris up, turned the water off, and laid him on the bed. It was a difficult task, but the days of insomnia dropped Chris into a deep sleep. Peter tucked his love in and let him rest.

* * *

Chris woke up some time later, his body feeling rejuvenated at last. Peter was just coming in to check on him. "Sleep well?" Peter asked.

"Yeah, how long was I out?"

"Two days. I was getting worried. How are you feeling?"

Chris thought for a moment. "Hungry and horny."

Peter laughed. "I can take care of both of those. Which first?" A loud gurgling noise issued from Chris's stomach. He looked down, then back up to Peter. "Okay. Food first, then we fuck."

Chris followed Peter down to the kitchen and sat at the table. Peter handed him a cup of coffee and began chopping green and red bell peppers and ham. Chris watched as Peter tossed them and a few eggs into a frying pan. The scents mixed in the air making Chris even hungrier. Peter also made some toast and buttered it before serving it all on two plates. They ate in silence. Chris scarfed his food down. He couldn't remember the last time food tasted so good. When they were done, Peter set the dishes in the sink. "And now… we fuck." Chris grinned. His body was craving it. He wanted to feel Peter inside him. He wanted to be thoroughly bruised, used, and filled to capacity.

Peter could see it in Chris's eyes. A coy smile parted his lips. "Beg," Peter ordered. "Beg for it."

Chris was confused. "For what?"

"The privilege of servicing me," Peter grinned.

Chris smiled. Instantly, the power imbalance was back. He dropped to his knees in front of Peter. "Please sir," Chris whimpered. "Fuck me."

"You're going to have to be more convincing than that. I don't believe you want it. Tell me… what exactly it is you want me to do to you. I just might oblige," Peter chuckled.

Chris stared at the floor, exasperated. He thought for a second, trying to find the words that would best express the torrid, wicked acts he wanted Peter to perpetrate on him. Swallowing hard, he began to speak, staring at Peter's now exposed cock with intense longing. Words began spilling out of his mouth. Vile requests that shocked both of them. "Sir, I want you to fuck my throat so hard I lose my voice… I want you to take my holes so hard I'm ruined for anyone else. Please…"

"That's what I wanted to hear," Peter said, his voice barely above a whisper. He bent down, kissing Chris, then he stood up, placing his hands on either side of Chris's head, guiding his sub's mouth to his awaiting cock. Chris whimpered longingly as it touched his lips. Peter shoved himself in, causing Chris to gag, but he greedily tried to swallow it down. Peter moaned, pumping himself into the sub's throat. "I know a way to make this a little easier on you."

He led them to the bedroom and laid Chris on his back, the sub's head hanging down over the edge. Peter pushed his cock back into the open mouth. It went in more easily. He thrust into Chris's throat, amazed that he could still be impressed by his sub's prowess. When he could feel himself getting close, he stopped, pulling out. Chris gasped. His face was covered in saliva and mucus. Peter grinned. "You're sloppy," he mused, walking around. He grabbed Chris's legs, pulling him to the other side of the bed and crudely entered him. Chris screamed in agonizing bliss as he felt his body struggle to take Peter.

Having gone days without Chris, it didn't take long for Peter to slam into his sub, filling him with the product of their labor. Chris clenched around Peter, gasping as he, too, came. Peter collapsed onto Chris, still buried within him. Their bodies were slick with sweat and semen. They breathed hard, smelling the masculine, musty scents their bodies gave off as Peter slowly softened, though remained inside.

"How was that for your _appetite_," Peter asked after a few minutes.

Staring at the ceiling, Chris laughed. "I think you were holding back. I expected rougher."

"Maybe I wanted you to still be able to walk…" Peter replied, moving slightly within Chris.

The sub reached up, weaving his fingers into Peter's hair and pulling it slightly. "Maybe I didn't ask what you want."

Peter grew hard again instantly. "Who is serving whom now?" he laughed.

"I'll rephrase it. Maybe I didn't ask what you want, sir," Chris hissed into Peter's ear.

Peter kissed Chris, whose face was still covered in the aftermath of the throat fucking he'd received. "I don't want to leave my sub unfulfilled," he breathed, resuming his thrusts at a much more unforgiving pace.

* * *

**A/N**: Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed! Feel free to leave your thoughts! I love hearing them. You can also contact me via tumblr where my url is .com. Until next time, my lovely readers!


	11. Chapter 11

Caution: This chapter contains particularly dubious consent and delves into some more master/slave relationships.

* * *

"We have a problem," Peter announced as Chris joined him for breakfast the next day. He walked with an odd limp, but there were no regrets. Chris poured himself a cup of coffee and glanced at Peter, who was looking over the lid of his laptop. "They're finding my accounts and freezing them. I've got a few left, but we're draining the money. They're trying to starve us out. We need to leave."

"We've been running for a week," Chris said. "This is the longest we've stayed in a house."

"We need to get out of the country," Peter sighed, closing his laptop.

"That's easier said than done. We'd have to go through customs. I can guarantee you that my passport has been frozen and you're on every most wanted list we can put you on," Chris replied. "We're never getting out of this country."

"I'm running out of ideas," Peter admitted. "I know a guy who could get us passports that would work, but his price would be too high and too dangerous.

"I'm up for the challenge," Chris grinned from behind his mug.

Peter got up from his chair and sensually kissed Chris, wrapping his arms around his sub. "No, Chris you don't understand. You could get killed."

"These are the risks we take," Chris said. "I've been an FBI agent for long enough to know that stepping outside your door can be a deadly activity. I can handle myself."

Peter caressed Chris' neck tenderly. "You may be willing to wager with your life, but I'm not. This guy… he is the best criminal the world has ever seen. He's a vicious and unforgiving psychopath. He's also incredibly submerged into the BDSM life. He has subs who are practically slaves to him. His price will be high."

"We can pay it. We'll pull off another attack. Nobody knows we're in Florida. It'll be a cakewalk."

Peter rested his forehead against his sub's, closing his eyes. "He won't ask just for money, my pet. He'll demand time with you, too."

That changed things. Chris swallowed hard against the revelation. The thought of another man doing to him what he and Peter often did… it was so out of the question that it had never even crossed his mind, not even when they had been tag teaming Jackson. "Is it our only option?"

Peter gave a somber nod. "I wish there were another way."

* * *

The drive to Reno was spent with Peter giving explanations and advice. "Duke will expect you to be unflinchingly obedient to me. He has killed subs who disobeyed." Chris shifted uneasily at that. "The fact that you're mine will afford you only so much freedom. He's a fanatic. He wants people who live this life to live it the way he does… he won't help anyone who doesn't so he needs to believe that I hold your life in my hands."

"You do," Chris replied quietly. "You have…"

Peter smiled over at Chris. "I will say and do things in front of Duke that I don't mean. It has to sound convincing. _Please_ don't take it to heart," Peter begged.

"And what if he wants to fuck me… or worse…" Chris asked.

"If I need to, I'll try to intervene. Unfortunately there's no way he'll honor safe words," Peter sighed. "He won't even see you as human."

"And how do you know him?" Chris asked, admittedly concerned by the fact that Peter would know so much about a man so horrible.

"He wasn't always like that," Peter admitted. "He just got messed up somewhere along the way…"

They were able to check into a hotel not too far from Duke's estate. There, Peter urged Chris to get some much-needed rest. Six hours later, Chris woke up. Peter was lying beside him, still awake. Chris craned his neck to kiss his Dom. Peter kissed back. When their lips parted, Chris scooted his body closer. "I want something I can focus on while it's happening," Chris whispered, looking into Peter's eyes. It took Peter a moment to realize what Chris meant, but the second he did, he obliged, crawling over the sub as he began to tenderly make love.

* * *

The estate was beautiful; nobody could begrudge Duke that little fact. As they pulled up to the large mansion, Chris felt some trepidation. At Peter's order, he began to pull off his clothes and fastened his collar. The leash was already attached. Peter looked over at Chris, his eyes full of worry.

"It's not too late… I can try and find another way," Peter said.

"I'm ready for this," Chris lied. "Besides… you said yourself… he's our only chance."

Peter leaned over and kissed him. "Remember what I said… Unflinching obedience… and don't take what I say to heart."

Chris nodded and they got out of the car. It felt odd for Chris to be naked at someone else's house.

They approached the front door and it was opened by man with a rather impeccable sense of fashion. "Peter!" he said with a soothing British baritone. "I see you brought your toy over to play." The man eyed Chris carefully. Remembering their talk, Chris kept his mouth shut and his eyes downcast. "Not bad… not bad at all. But I guess I'll have to save judgment until I see how well you've trained it."

Chris didn't appreciate being referred to as an object. Chris walked slightly behind Peter and Duke as they ventured in. The house was decorated with a very modern style. All floors were marble. They continued past a formal sitting room into a hallway where Duke opened the door and invited them downstairs. "I figured that since we're both busy men, we can skip straight to business, if you don't mind. I'll go ahead and get your payment methods prepared."

The stairs led down to a dungeon. Duke's subs were kept in separate cells. Peter hadn't mentioned that he had several… and two of them were twins—the implications of which made Chris quite nervous. All of them were kept in various positions that seemed as though they would be painful. Duke keyed in a code to the number pad and the door for the large, muscular sub opened. Duke walked in and released him from the strappado position he had been kept in. Duke attached a leash to his collar and led him into the main part of the room. "I have, admittedly, spent quite a bit more money on my dungeon than I really ought to have. Though can you really put a price on pleasure?" he gave a fake chuckle. Peter mimicked it. "I figured that while you and I prepare the cash transaction, Ennis here can get your toy ready to play." Turning to Ennis he whispered an instruction. Chris glanced nervously at Peter who seemed to grow slightly paler.

"Follow Ennis," Peter instructed, trying to hide the growing fear he had for Chris.

Ennis took Chris' leash and led him to what looked like a metal version of a woodworking horse that had been modified with shackles. Ennis pushed him onto it and forced him to bend over, removing his leash and connecting a chain that was bolted to the floor. He then secured Chris' arms and legs. Chris struggled against the shackles slightly, but when he realized that he couldn't move, he began to panic slightly. It didn't help that almost immediately, Ennis had mounted him and was penetrating him. Nothing about that man was small and without the added prep work, Chris was in pain.

He cried out as Ennis continued pushing into him. "Shh!" his fellow sub ordered. "You'll get us both in trouble."

Chris winced as Ennis began thrusting. "Can you just be careful?" he asked in a whisper. "This really hurts…"

"I do only as my Master asks," he replied, punctuating it with a thrust.

"What's going on over there?" Duke demanded.

"It is complaining of pain," Ennis replied, maintaining a steady pace. Chris struggled slightly against his restraints. He was regretting not taking Peter's offer of finding something else. None of his FBI training would do him any good while strapped and immobilized.

When Peter saw the chain on my neck, he spoke up. "Can you please undo the neck chain? He doesn't like anything constricting his neck…"

Duke laughed. "You think I am honestly concerned with what it does and does not like?"

Peter felt a surge of regret, punctuated by Chris's cries of pain. "Can you at least tell your sub to go easy on him…"

"_It_ will be fine," said Duke dismissively. "Just transfer the money."

Peter gritted his teeth and began the process of transferring the exorbitant sum Duke demanded, wincing each time he heard Chris cry out. When the money had successfully changed hands, Duke laughed. "Alright… now it's time for a party!"

He began stripping off his clothes and approached the two subs. Tears streamed down Chris's cheeks. The pain was fading, but it was definitely still there. Ennis withdrew from him and almost immediately, Duke had replaced him. Chris cried out at the intrusion. Duke wasn't as large as Ennis had been, but he was larger than Peter… and nowhere near as gentle. Duke's fast pace was immediately stopped by Chris's constant stream of grunts and whimpers. "Peter… why don't you give its mouth something to do… that noise is really beginning to kill my mood."

"Forgive me," Peter whispered as he fished his cock out and placed it in Chris's mouth, robotically fucking his sub's throat.

It didn't take long for Duke to finish, bursting into the sub. "Well… I can certainly see why you enjoy it. It feels just like velvet. But I'm afraid it seems to forget that its main purpose is the pleasure of its superiors… I'm going to fix that before I send you two off." Peter closed his eyes as he pulled out of Chris' mouth. Duke withdrew from Chris and released one of the twins. "Here… take this one over there. He'll show you what a truly servile and obedient sub is like. Ennis will cook dinner. I'll work on the sorry excuse of a slave you have here."

In the corner of his eye, Chris could see Peter thrust into the younger sub. "He's tight," Peter gasped.

"I've reserved him exclusively for my guests. Usually, I occupy myself with his brother or Ennis," Duke replied. He then directed his attention to Chris. "You're too noisy of a slave. I'm going to teach you how to remain silent. The quicker you learn the lesson… the easier it will be for you."

Chris heard Duke rummaging through a cabinet, however, he was unable to see the hardwood paddle the Dom had retrieved and was unprepared for the splitting pain that erupted on his backside as it made particularly strong contact with his skin. Chris screamed out in agony and Peter watched helplessly.

"Your pain is your Master's pleasure. Accept it as an inevitability," Duke said. Chris received several more powerful swats. He was seeing stars. Never before had he been in so much pain.

Peter knew the dangers of overstimulating Chris. He also knew that during particularly rough play, Chris needed little breaks and moments of tenderness in between rounds of pain. Duke was unconcerned by these needs, despite Chris' begging him to stop.

The paddle was soon replaced by a whip that stung as it made contact with his back. Again, Chris screamed out. This pain was new and intense. "Please… please stop…" Chris sobbed.

"Duke!" Peter yelled. "You may treat your subs with that disdain… but you will not treat mine that way. When he says he needs you to stop, then stop!"

Not liking the tone Peter used, Duke lashed at Chris three more times. Beads of blood trickled down his back as the whip split his skin. Duke raised his hand to strike Chris again but Peter rushed over and grabbed his arm before he could. "I said to give him a break," he growled ominously.

Duke scoffed. "No wonder he's so poorly trained… you're just as weak as he is…"

Peter stared into Duke's grey eyes. They looked quite a bit like Chris'… except they were cruel and rabid where Chris' were kind and gentle. "I think we're done here."

"We're not done until I say we are!" Duke retorted.

Peter sighed, feigning like he was going to allow Duke to continue, then snatched the whip from his hands and slung it so it wrapped around the man's neck before jerking him to the ground. Duke fought at the whip which was cutting off his air. Peter knelt down, putting one knee on Duke's chest. "Do you think I honestly care that you aren't done?" Peter growled. He fished the key to the shackles out of the pile of Duke's clothing and released Chris who hugged Peter tightly when he could stand up. His back was latticed with red sores from the whip and paddle. "Let's go," he said. "We got what we came here for."

Peter looked down, watching Duke finally stop struggling. His lips were blue. Peter had no doubt he was dead. They walked out, grabbing the falsified passports, Peter helping Chris stay steady on his feet. They sat silently in the car for a few minutes before Peter spoke. "We never should have done this… I keep putting you in danger. I'm sorry, Chris."

"I pushed for us to do it even after you wanted to back out," Chris replied. "It's not your fault."

Peter kissed Chris on the cheek before starting the engine and driving back to their hotel.

* * *

**A/N**: Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed. Feedback is highly encouraged! You can also follow me on Tumblr and contact me there. My url is "amothafuckingquiche". Thanks!


	12. Chapter 12

"Your uncle is racking up quite the body count," Agent Mahealani said, opening up the conversation during a lunch meeting he set up with Derek and Stiles.

"I really don't know what your office wants us to do here, Danny," Derek admitted.

Danny sighed. "To be honest, neither do I. I'm sorry we keep harassing you guys. Your uncle deserves some sort of award. He has managed to best the FBI, the CIA, The Department of Homeland Security and the Pentagon numerous times. He's trying to flee the country if he hasn't managed to do so already."

Stiles shook his head in confusion. "This man is on every watch list you guys have come up with. How exactly does he just waltz out of the country?"

"Now you see my problem," Danny replied. "He _did_ manage to kill a criminal in Reno who we'd been tracking for six years. That guy deserves worse than Hell for some of the things _he's_ done. But I'm really starting to worry about the agent he kidnapped."

"Peter has already shown that he isn't afraid to kill," Derek said. "What makes you think that this agent isn't in on it?"

Danny shifted in his seat. "What do you mean?"

"I'm just saying," Derek replied. "It seems like a pretty big hassle to keep an FBI agent with you. He killed one agent, why not just kill this one too?"

Stiles watched Danny's body movement closely. This was not the first time Danny had contemplated that possibility.

"If that's true, then we have bigger problems," Danny sighed. "Director Argent knows this case inside and out and he is one of the best agents I've ever met."

Derek leaned forward. "Now there's something we need to talk to you about. We need you to stop popping by our house as often as you do with this case. We're trying to adopt a child and no social worker is going to approve a child being placed with us if we're constantly being brought in to this case."

Danny's eyes lit up. "Congratulations! My husband and I adopted a little girl last year."

"I'm willing to consult for you during normal business hours. I just need to be able to focus on our new family," Derek said.

"I can agree to that."

* * *

Pain. That was the ultimate goal, it seemed. Chris' muscles trembled from strain as he fought to hold on to consciousness. Sweat poured from their bodies. "You're resisting me," Peter sighed.

"I'm sorry, it just hurts," Chris complained. He had nipple clamps, clothespins pinching his scrotum, and Peter wasn't exactly being gentle as his powerful thrusts strained every ounce of self-control it took for him not to scream.

"Just a little more," Peter urged.

Chris didn't know how much more he could take. They hadn't even really talked about what happened with Duke, though not for Chris' lack of trying. He needed Peter's help to process it. He had scars that were likely to never heal. And now, Peter was being just as uncaring as Duke had been. Tears mixed with the sweat on his face. At last, Peter finished and took off the clamps.

Chris collapsed onto the floor, curling up as his muscles continued to ache. He couldn't even bring himself to look at his Dom.

"Get up," Peter ordered. "We need to shower."

"I need a few minutes, Peter!" Chris cried.

"What's wrong?" Peter demanded.

Struggling to sit up, Chris glared at Peter. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

Peter looked angry. "Watch your tone!"

"Why are you treating me like this?" Chris asked. "I need you right now, Peter. And you're acting no better than Duke…"

"You might have fared better with him if I treated you more like a sub than like a boyfriend!" Peter shot back.

"Why can't I be both?"

"Because it gets you hurt!" Peter shouted. "People who get close to me get hurt. Haven't you learned that lesson?"

"I learned the lesson that 'trust is the cornerstone'. I trust you. You saved me and now… I don't even know where we stand. I haven't had a chance to get over what happened. I just want to be close to you right now, and you're pushing me away!" Chris yelled back. "It's like nothing we've been through together has happened!"

It was impossible to hide the disappointment Peter felt. "You were hurt because of me. I didn't try hard enough to find another way and you got hurt."

"So instead of helping me through it, you're putting up a wall?" Chris asked. "How the hell does that make any sense? I'm in pain! I hurt all over… both emotionally and physically and I need you right now more than I've ever needed you and you're not there for me."

Peter sat down next to Chris. "I love you… you know that, right?"

"Sometimes I doubt it."

Peter winced like he'd been hit. "I told you I have a hard time showing it."

"You're making excuses. I need help right now."

Nodding, Peter pulled Chris close to him. "Tell me how to help you."

Chris just needed the emotional and physical proximity to Peter. "Just be there for me." Peter squeezed Chris tightly. Finally able to lean on Peter for support, Chris began to cry. The emotions he bottled for an entire week were flooding out of him. He felt Peter rubbing his shoulder, careful not to touch his back. There were red marks all over his body from what they'd just done and Peter massaged that as well. The touch was soothing. Peter got an idea.

"Stay right here," Peter said, quickly getting up and setting up a raised area where he then moved Chris. Peter disappeared for several minutes, returning with scented oil. He rubbed some oil onto his hands and began massaging Chris' aching muscles. It felt amazing. Chris relaxed as Peter's hands worked over his body.

Peter moved from Chris's shoulders down to his chest. Chris winced when Peter touched his sensitive nipples. "I'm sorry," Peter whispered, leaning down and pressing his lips to Chris'. Peter moved down from Chris' chest to his stomach, then further to his legs, finally ending at Chris's feet.

Chris felt like jelly just lying on the table. It was amazing that these hands that had brought him so much pain could bring such pleasure. He moaned as Peter continued the massage. This was, in Chris' mind, the most erotic moment they'd ever shared and the only thing sexual about it was that they were both nude. When Peter was finished with his front, he asked, "Do you want me to massage your back?"

Biting his lip, Chris closed his eyes. "Just… avoid the marks."

Peter nodded, helping Chris turn over. He had done everything he could to avoid facing this fact… the physical damage that his cowardice left on the man he loved. He was glad that Chris couldn't see his reaction. The wounds were ugly and remarkably painful for him to see. Red lines zig-zagged across the otherwise unblemished flesh. Some of the wounds had begun to heal, but they needed better treatment. Some of them should have been stitched. "Oh, my pet…" Peter sighed. "I'm so sorry…"

Chris felt some relief to having been called "my pet", a name he hadn't heard since before the time with Duke. "Now you understand why I needed you."

"I'm sorry. We need to get these taken care of."

"How?" Chris asked. "It's not like we can just roll into a hospital."

"I'll take care of it," Peter promised. Helping Chris off the table, Peter led him to the shower where he gingerly cleaned the layer of sweat and oil from his sub's body before quickly washing his own. Once they were dry, Peter began the process of cleaning out the wounds. "This is going to hurt," Peter warned. He grabbed a leather belt and handed it to Chris. "Bite down."

Chris did as he was told and screamed in agony as Peter began the process of cleaning the wounds. "It's almost over," Peter cooed. Unfortunately, he had to reopen some of the wounds so he could close them properly. Chris's blood stained his fingers as he worked, but finally, the wounds were properly taken care of. Chris was sobbing and Peter had to work hard to get the leather belt from between his sub's teeth. "It's over."

Peter pulled Chris close, wanting to comfort him. Chris allowed himself to push closer to Peter. "I need something for the pain… please… it hurts."

"I don't have any medication," Peter admitted. "All I have is alcohol."

"Then give me some. It hurts, Peter…"

Peter's lips grazed Chris' forehead and he quickly got up, pouring scotch into two glasses. He brought the glass back, lifting it to Chris' lips. "Here…"

Chris forced the amber liquid down. He hadn't eaten so he knew it would hit him quickly. He thought Peter was going to down the second glass, but was surprised to find that it, too, was for him. "We're going to get you dressed and then we're crossing the border. I want you to rest, though," Peter told him. "When you wake up, we'll be in Canada and we'll have a new life. None of this will hang over us anymore."

"Do you promise?" Chris asked weakly. He was fading quickly from exhaustion and the alcohol would kick in shortly.

"Trust is the cornerstone, my pet…" Peter replied, kissing Chris. Moments later, Chris faded into blackness.

* * *

**A/N**: Sorry about it taking so long! I just wasn't sure how to treat the aftermath of the time with Duke… then I figured… well, Peter would probably feel guilty and push Chris away when he was needed most. I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Let me know what you think!


	13. Chapter 13

Chris woke up inside a car, Peter's fingers interlaced with his own. His back still hurt, but not as much as it had before. "How long have I been out?" he asked groggily.

"More than a day," Peter replied. "I wasn't sure whether or not to wake you."

"Where are we?"

"Welcome to the Great White North," Peter said. "Our new home."

"Will it be over?"

"It'll finally be over," Peter answered. "You and I can live our lives."

"What does it mean?" Chris asked. "For us, I mean."

Peter was silent for a while. "It means we can be us. However you want 'us' to be."

Chris wanted for them to be the "us" they were before. He wanted to serve Peter… to please him… to love him. He knew that there would be times when his Dom would be utterly unlovable but Peter was his and he'd have to try. Peter always respected his boundaries and Chris trusted him. When he finally found a way to verbalize it, Peter simply smiled. "So you're going to submit to me… entirely?"

Chris nodded. "Yes sir."

* * *

Their transition into living in Canada was a surprisingly easy one. Chris stayed home during the day, usually cleaning or cooking. Occasionally, Peter would assign him a sexual task he'd need to complete in preparation for that night's session in the basement. Peter got a job as a construction worker after assuming a new identity. Honest money was coming into the house, but that didn't stop Peter from occasionally falling back to old habits as a means of income.

Their life was exciting and they were happy. To the casual observer, they were the perfect couple. And they would have to agree. People didn't realize that when the door was shut and the blinds were pulled, Chris often followed Peter around on all fours with a tail-shaped plug in his ass, or that on Friday nights, he was usually suspended from the ceiling of the basement being fucked until he was raw and bleeding. The pain felt amazing.

Occasionally, Chris would venture out to grocery shop. He explained his near constant limp by telling people he once got injured on a hunting trip. He got involved in a neighborhood poker club. It felt so very Desperate Housewives and he loved it. Nobody suspected a thing. They were finally free.

* * *

"Why do you have to go?" Danny's husband, Nick, asked, clinging to his spouse.

"I was on the FBI's radar at 13 for my computer hacking skills. The Royal Canadian Mounted want me to help them with an anti-cyber-terrorism program they're creating. I'll be gone a week," Danny replied, kissing his spouse. He kissed their daughter, Ella, goodbye before kissing Nick and driving to the airport.

The flight went well enough and he easily found his way to his hotel. He was excited for the trip because he'd also get a chance to explore a little and there was, he heard, a wonderful small town just west of where he was that had a world-famous bakery. He figured Ella and Nick would love some baked goods, assuming they got through Customs.

After his first day of trainings, which went particularly well, Danny decided to venture over. He reasoned that he needed to try the baked goods before he brought them back… just for quality purposes. He chuckled at how easily he was able to convince himself. He would have to hit the gym extra after this trip.

As he opened the door, he was amazed at how good it smelled. There was every kind of bread one could imagine and pastries, cakes, and pies. He was in heaven. He scoped out what he wanted to try before waiting in line behind the man at the counter. The shop owner was laughing and bagging several loaves of bread. "Tell Sheila she's bleeding me dry! Daniel can't play poker to save his life!" the customer joked.

"Why do you think I'm giving you the free loaf of bread! It's bad enough my wife is robbing you!" both men gave hearty laughs.

"I'll be by probably Thursday to take a look at that roof. I don't think it'll be too hard to fix, though. Have a great day, Rufus!" the customer said.

"You too, Mark!" Rufus replied.

Danny was appreciating the small-town vibe he was getting from the interaction until he saw the face of the customer. He had no doubt in his mind that it was Peter Hale. He froze, accidentally causing Peter to bump into him. "Oh are you alright?" Peter asked, his eyes narrowing as he checked Danny over. "I should really watch where I'm going. My apologies."

Danny stammered, trying to play it cool. "No, it's my fault. I shouldn't have been blocking the way."

"I guess we'll just split the blame 50/50, eh?" Peter said, flashing his killer smile.

"Uh, yeah… sure," Danny managed. Peter smiled, turning around and heading out to his car.

Danny approached the counter and flashed his badge. "I know I'm sort of out of my jurisdiction. But he looks remarkably similar to someone I've been needing to question about a case I'm working on back home. Can you give me his name and address?"

"Oh yeah. But Mark is a really good guy. I don't see how he'd be involved in anything. He and his husband moved in across the street. They're a great couple," Rufus said, scrawling the address on a slip of receipt paper.

"Thank you so much!" Danny said, running back to his car. He couldn't see Peter's anymore, but he put the address into his GPS and began his trek. He pulled out his phone and called the only person he could think to call at the moment.

"Derek Hale speaking," said the voice.

"Derek, it's Danny. I think I just saw your uncle in Canada," he said.

"Why are you in Canada?"

"Bureau stuff, long story. Maybe I'm seeing things because I'm exhausted, but maybe I'm not. I've got to check it out!" Danny said.

"You're out of your jurisdiction. Report it to the local authorities. You can get in a lot of trouble for this!"

"I know. But we haven't had a lead in forever. And he just walked out of a bakery. It's him, Derek. I know it!" Danny said.

"But why are you telling me?" Derek asked. "Shouldn't you be calling your bosses?"

"Strictly speaking, I'm not supposed to be where I am now."

"I'm hanging up now. I don't need to get involved in this. Let me know when you're in your right mind again," Derek replied before the line went dead.

"Damnit!" Danny spat, throwing his cell into the passenger seat. He drove for another 20 minutes before the GPS announced he had arrived. The house was beautiful and spacious. He pulled out his binoculars and he could see Peter and Chris sitting down for dinner. They looked like every normal couple. Except they weren't. One of them was a criminal mastermind responsible for several murders and bank robberies that may have totaled in the billions and the other was an FBI agent gone rogue with enough training and expertise to have the body hidden before the corpse was cold.

Against better judgment, Danny staked them out.

He wasn't sure when he fell asleep. He awoke to a tapping on his window. When he looked, Peter was standing there. "You're the guy from the bakery," Peter said.

"Yes," Danny replied.

"And why are you sleeping outside my house?"

Danny was stuck. He had no excuse that didn't make him guilty of stalking at least… and he didn't want Peter to know he knew exactly what was going on.

"Should I rephrase that question, Agent Mahealani?" Peter asked, cocking his head to the side, a knowing smile parted his lips.

"Are you going to kill me?"

Peter laughed. "My homicidal days are behind me. I was going to invite you inside."

"I'm good, thanks!"

Peter's smile faded and he pulled out a gun, pressing the end of it to Danny's neck. "Please will you come inside with me?"

Danny put his hands up in surrender before unbuckling himself and moving to get out of the car. Peter looked around making sure nobody saw what was happening and pressed the gun into Danny's back. Once inside, Peter called, "Honey, looks like we have a guest."

Chris came downstairs, but upon seeing Danny's face and the gun Peter was holding next to it, his cheerful demeanor faded altogether. Danny's presence changed everything for them. "God damn it, Mahealani… couldn't you have left well enough alone?"

"Sweetie, we're going to have to kill him, you know that, don't you?" Peter asked.

Danny whimpered in fear as Chris approached him. "We agree on one thing, it seems," Chris said softly. "He can't leave this house alive."

Peter grinned at his sub. "I love it when you talk dirty."

"Enough!" Danny said. "Please… let me go."

"We've worked too hard for too long to finally be free from you guys. Do you seriously think we're going to let you waltz out of here now that you know where we live? Are you fucking crazy?" Peter demanded.

"I won't tell, I promise!" Danny pleaded.

"We can't trust you to keep that promise, Danny," Chris said. "We only have two options here…"

Peter looked confused. "Two?"

"Either we kill him… or we keep him."

"Like as a…"

"Yeah."

"I like the way you think."

"What are you talking about?" Danny cried.

"By now I'm sure you've figured out that we're a couple. But we aren't a typical couple. I'm Peter's submissive. He's my Dominant," Chris explained. "We're giving you the option. Either we kill you… and if you choose that option, I'll make sure it's fast and painless, I promise you. Or you stay with us and we'll train you as a submissive."

Danny's jaw dropped. He couldn't even believe the words were coming out of Chris' mouth. Chris Argent, the Field Director who had a stick so far up his ass that Danny had to wonder how Peter found room for his dick, was giving him the ultimatum of join in a permanent BDSM threesome or die. "I'll stay with you," Danny said, defeat tainting his normally strong voice.

As he closed his eyes, he saw Ella's and Nick's bright faces smiling at him. They would wonder what happened to him. Nick would spend nights alone, crying in his bed. Ella would ask why her daddy didn't come home. He began to cry. As Peter and Chris stripped the clothes from his body, he made a vow. He was going to find a way to get back to his husband and daughter. And he'd take them down as he did it. He was going to play along for as long as it took. The moment he saw an opportunity for freedom, he was going to take it. And Heaven help the bastard that tried to stop him.

* * *

**A/N**: Alright… we're leading up to the finale now. I know I said that before… but now I really mean it. There's going to be some hot threesome action in the meantime, so look for that in the next chapter! And a darker side of Chris… not gonna lie, I kind of find it hot. Let me know what you think!


	14. Chapter 14

Danny's sweaty body hung limply from the ceiling. Semen ran down his legs, drying to his skin. He felt weak, powerless, and violated. Peter circled him, studying what he could possibly do next that wouldn't send him into subspace. In the end, he decided to just give him a break and put him up for the night.

Carefully, he untied Danny, motioning to Chris to catch him as he fell. Danny's muscles ached from strain. Chis carefully laid him down on the soft mat. "You may use him now, my pet. Lock the cage when you're done. I'll see you upstairs," Peter said, kissing Chris's cheek before disappearing.

Chris moved himself between Danny's legs. Danny didn't even fight anymore, grunting as he entered the younger sub with ease, his hole already loosened and slicked by Peter's use. Of the two of them, Danny preferred Chris. It was often Chris who would sit by his side as he worked to calm down after particularly intense and brutal sessions with Peter. And while Chris was by no means caring in the way he pounded the already abused hole when Peter gave him permission, Danny never got the vibe that it was out of hatred from Chris the way it was from Peter.

Both men spent considerable amounts of time locked in chastity devices, though Danny was only released for showers and he was never permitted to touch himself. Both of them had tail plugs that they wore. But Danny was also put in a Humbler whenever he was allowed to roam the house, Chris never had to wear the device and was glad.

Yet for all of it, Danny wasn't succumbing to Stockholm Syndrome. Even Chris expected him to crack by now, but he remained strong and resolute. It didn't take much longer for Chris to add to the copious amount already inside his fellow sub. He then helped Danny into the small room they had built to cage him.

It surprised Chris what he was capable of when it came to protecting what he had with Peter. He was willing to give up decency and morality. He traded any respect Danny might still have for him for the chance of the outward appearance of a normal life with Peter, and the security of not having to look over his shoulder. And he was fine with that.

He and Peter made sure that nobody could actually trace Danny to them. There were moments during the planning that Chris would look over and see a smirk on Peter's face, but Peter would never explain it.

Finally he opened the door to the bedroom and saw Peter just climbing into bed. "Oh! Right on time!" Peter exclaimed. The Dom shook his dick in Chris' direction. The sub was only too happy to climb on top and straddle his Dom, reaching behind him to guide the erect cock into him.

Peter moaned as Chris moved. "That tight young stud down there completely at your disposal and still it's me who can make you moan," Chris chuckled. "Just when I think I can't be amazed."

"You're in my bed because you want to be," Peter replied. "And I want you to be."

Chris winced as Peter began thrusting upward, meeting Chris' downward motions. Peter's hands held Chris still as he began drilling up into the sub. Chris stayed perfectly still as Peter's hips slammed into his own. Peter stared into Chris' eyes as pulled Chris completely down onto him. He knew it hurt, but Chris' face betrayed nothing.

"How are you able to fuck so much?" Chris asked, pulling up off of Peter after he finished.

"I love the guy I'm fucking," Peter grinned as he leaned over and kissed Chris.

Chris smiled to himself as Peter wrapped his strong arms protectively around his sub and fell asleep.

* * *

Derek was busy changing a diaper when the door rang. "Stiles… can you get it?" he called.

Cheerfully, Stiles opened the door, though his mood faded when he saw the sad face of Nick, Danny's husband, staring back at him. "Nick, what's wrong?"

"They are calling off the investigation," Nick sobbed. "They're officially assuming him dead."

"From what?" Stiles asked. "He went missing in Canada for God's sake…"

"They think he went hiking and was attacked by a bear. There've been several attacks in the area at the time," Nick said.

Stiles pulled him into a close hug. "I'm so sorry. Where's Ella?"

"She's with my parents. I don't even know how to tell her."

Stiles guided Nick in and poured him some scotch. "You look like you could use some."

"I just want him back…" Nick whispered.

Derek came in carrying the newest addition to the Hale family, a beautiful girl they named Mia.

* * *

Chris awoke to find Peter had already left for work and a note was left on his pillow. Wiping the sleep from his eyes, Chris unfolded it and read it over.

_Good morning, my pet!_

_I'm putting Danny off limits for a week so he will tighten up. The key to his lock is under my pillow. Give him a reward for his obedience._

_I'll see you tonight._

_Love,_

_Peter_

Chris smiled. "I love that man," he whispered as he found the key and went down to wake Danny.

"What are you doing?" Danny asked groggily as Chris freed his impressive package from its cage.

"Let's get you washed up," Chris said helping Danny to his feet. The younger sub limped as Chris helped him upstairs and drew a warm bath before helping him climb into the tub and rest.

Kneeling beside the tub, Chris washed Danny's body. He had a surprising amount of affection for the kid, even when they first met. He was young, handsome, and had a bright future. Chris figured that now "had" was a more operative word. And while he couldn't allow Danny to go free and potentially ruin everything he had built with Peter, he could certainly try and help him be more comfortable with them, especially since he was allowed to pleasure him.

As Chris made his way from Danny's neck and shoulders, he made it as sensual as possible, even eliciting a few moans from Danny who was sporting a painfully hard erection. "Do you want me to stroke you or suck you?" Chris asked.

"What a romantic," Danny replied, rolling his eyes.

Chris pursed his lips. "I'm trying to help you… I know it's been a while since you last came."

Sighing, Danny looked away. "I know… but this isn't easy. I'll never get used to being a piece of meat."

"You're not," Chris insisted. "Let me show you…"

Danny allowed Chris to continue washing him before he dried and escorted Danny to the guestroom. He wasn't going to have sex with anyone but Peter in their bed. Chris' lips grazed Danny's before he trailed down, licking Danny's nipples and navel. He hesitated for a moment before licking the head causing Danny to cry out.

Bucking up into the warm mouth, Danny knew it wouldn't be long before he came, especially considering it had been so long since he was last allowed to. He pushed Chris' head down further and promptly unloaded more than a month of sexual frustration into the warm, wet mouth.

Danny's body shuddered and spasmed at the force of his orgasm. Chris struggled not to spill any, but it was just too much and some dribbled out. He looked back up to find Danny's face blissfully serene. "That felt amazing," he gasped.

"You learn a thing or two," Chris joked.

They were silent for a while before Danny finally spoke. "Why did you do it?"

"I fell in love," Chris replied.

"I looked up to you, Chris," Danny said. "I idolized you. And this entire time you were _literally_ sleeping with the enemy."

"You don't understand," Chris replied. "From your perspective… I'm sure we seem like monsters."

"That doesn't begin to cover it!"

"We never wanted this to happen," I assured him. "When we first got started, it was just supposed to last a week, then I was going to turn him in. That was the deal. But when the time came, I couldn't do it. Then when Jackson died, we had disappear."

"You mean when you killed Jackson," Danny corrected.

Guilt tore through Chris. He closed his eyes and could still see Jackson's body in his arms. "Jackson's death was an accident," Chris whispered. "I still have nightmares about it."

"I don't care," Danny said. "He died because of you and the fact that you were too weak to do the right thing."

Chris looked away, trying to blink away the tears welling in his eyes. "Please believe me… Jackson's death is my single biggest regret. He wanted to help protect us. When he died, it was truly an accident…"

"Whatever," Danny said, turning away from Chris.

After several minutes of silence, Chris got up, desperate to escape the awkward silence. "I'll be downstairs if you need me," he said.

* * *

That Friday, Peter came home in a good mood. Even Danny was in a good mood from not having been used. Chris made the case that Danny should be allowed to live in the guest room. Reluctantly, Peter agreed with the stipulation that if we ever _did_ have guests, Danny would be relocated to his cage.

On his way home from work, Peter stopped and got Chinese take-out, announcing that they would be celebrating a special day. "What are you talking about?" Chris laughed.

"Did you forget?" Peter asked, feigning shocked disappointment. "Today is the one year anniversary of the night I abducted you from your hotel room."

Chris found it strangely romantic that he'd remember that day.

"I have something special planned for tonight," Peter said, helping himself to lo mein.

"I'm intrigued," Chris admitted.

"You should be."

After dinner, Peter led his subs downstairs where he tied them both up. The paddle hissed as it cut through the air, creating large red marks on both subs' skin. When Chris and Danny had taken enough abuse, Peter took them down, laying Chris on a bed. He then ordered Danny to straddle Chris, who groaned as his cock entered the younger sub.

Chris thrust upwards causing them both to moan. After several days of nonuse, Danny was incredibly tight. Peter watched for several minutes, stroking himself before moving closer, pressing the tip of his cock to Danny's already stuffed hole.

Instantly, Danny realized what was about to happen. "No! Please don't!" he begged as he felt the second intrusion. Peter ignored his pleas and continued to push into him. "Stop! Please! It's too much!" Chris felt Peter moving alongside him. Danny screamed as Peter breeched him. "Please! Take it out!" Suddenly, Danny felt that much tighter. It felt amazing. Danny wept, trying to brace himself against the pain, but he couldn't. Peter began thrusting wildly, pleasuring both himself and Chris.

"This feels so good," Peter groaned, thrusting harder.

Tears were streaming down Danny's face, falling onto Chris who was trying his best to comfort the young sub who was obviously in pain. "Please sir…" he sobbed. "I'm not sure how much more I can take."

"You'll take what I give you and enjoy it," Peter replied, picking up even more speed. "How does it feel, my pet?"

"It's so tight!" Chris said. "But I think he's really in pain…"

"I don't care how much pain he's in as long as you feel good," said Peter.

Chris knew he wouldn't last. Instinct was starting to take over and he thrust slightly. To Danny's surprise, it actually made it feel better.

Danny stared into Chris' eyes. "It's okay…" Chris said. "You're doing great!"

"It hurts," Danny whispered.

"It'll stop hurting soon, I promise," Chris replied. "You feel great…" After a few more thrusts, Chris screamed out in bliss, and Peter followed shortly behind him.

"That was amazing," Peter grunted, pulling out, Chris popping out of the stretched hole as well. Danny felt empty and uncomfortable. "Happy anniversary, my pet!"

After a few minutes to recover, Peter sat back and watched as Danny carefully entered Chris. "Oh my god," he gasped. "Thank you sir, for letting me do this."

Peter stroked himself as he continued to watch the show. "How are _you_ feeling, my pet?"

"It feels good," Chris moaned before leaning up and kissing Danny. The younger sub's hands caressed the older sub's side. However when it began to look too romantic, Peter stepped in and mounted Danny from behind.

Danny felt loose and slick from having been double penetrated, but he was still soft and velvety around Peter's cock. "This is the life…" Peter chuckled, driving himself in. Danny enjoyed the sensation of having something inside him again. It didn't take long before another load was added to Danny and Danny burst inside Chris.

Chris was exhausted. They all went upstairs to the bedroom. Peter put the tail plug inside Danny and grabbed him a blanket. "You can sleep at the foot of the bed if you want."

* * *

**A/N**: What did ya think? There's gonna be a bit more threesome action before we draw this puppy to a close. How will Danny adjust to being treated better?


	15. Chapter 15

Chris spent much of his time sweaty with his body entangled with Danny's. When he campaigned for Danny to be able to use the guest room, he didn't realize that Peter was going to turn that guest room into another prison for their permanent guest, so to help ease his own guilt, he tried to make it up to Danny the only way he knew how. Chris loved the way Danny's body looked as it moved on top of him, thrusting powerfully and sensually into him, keeping him teetering on the brink of orgasm, delaying it until the last possible moment before allowing them to finish together. After, they would hold each other for a while. Chris had developed feelings for Danny that he never expected to.

Danny knew this. He saw how Chris had changed from cold and unfeeling to warm and inviting in his presence. He studied how differently Chris operated around him versus when he was around Peter. The dynamic was entirely split, but Danny could tell that there was a genuine love beneath it all. That didn't stop him from being incredibly frustrated when he would be locked up like a caged animal at a zoo for hours on end, brought out only to be beaten and fucked before being put away, covered and filled with cum and often bruised and crying. Whenever they fucked him together, he always ended up with both of them inside him and while it didn't hurt as much as it had the first time, it was never comfortable. Peter always rewarded him with a chance to fuck Chris, unaware that he did that every single day after Peter went to work… several times a day.

However as time went on, Danny realized that he was growing immune to the sights, sounds, and sensations of sex. He began to fear that if he ever got to return to Nick, that he would be incapable of being with Nick in the way he cherished so much. He decided to create a barrier. He could no longer have the same kind of sex with Chris that he did with Nick.

He began to experiment with the power differential he knew Chris loved. It took the older sub by surprise when Danny flipped him over and rather than diving right back into him, Danny's lips grazed his ear and he heard the coarse whisper, "Do you deserve my cock?"

Chris instantly hardened. "Yes," he whimpered.

Danny yanked Chris' hair painfully. "What?" he hissed.

A satisfied smirk parted Chris' lips. "Yes sir. I deserve it."

"I don't think you do," Danny replied. He placed the tip of his cock at Chris' opening, but was careful not to push in. "Beg for it."

The sound of the door opening startled them both. "Am I interrupting something?" Peter's dry baritone voice asked.

Immediately, Danny moved off of Chris. "I'm sorry sir…"

Peter's face was unreadable which scared Chris and utterly terrified Danny. "Is this what has been going on every day?" Peter asked.

"No… that was the first time I ever…" Danny started but Peter cut him off.

"I wasn't asking you, you miserable little shit!" Peter spat. The hurt in Peter's voice did not go unnoticed by Chris.

"We've fucked," Chris admitted. "But that was the first time we've ever done any sort of power play, I promise."

Peter's eyes narrowed as he stared at Chris, trying to discern whether or not that was the truth. Finally, he decided he would believe his pet. He was still pissed, but he wasn't going to take the anger out on Chris, but he was by no means going to just let Chris get away with this violation of his trust. It took only two long strides for Peter to be right in front of Danny. He grabbed the young sub by his throat and in an impressive show of strength, was able to pick him up and slam him to the floor. Peter began kicking Danny repeatedly and only after Chris was on his knees begging Peter to stop, did Peter put his boot on Danny's neck. He didn't step down, but he made breathing uncomfortable. "He begs for no cock but mine, do you understand me?"

"Yes!" Danny croaked.

Peter delivered another powerful kick to Danny's side. Bruises were already forming from his previous blows. "I walk in here and see you trying to dominate the man I love, the least you could do is show me some fucking respect!"

"I'm sorry sir," Danny wheezed, seeing stars from the assault.

Peter bent down and spat on Danny's face before turning to Chris. "And you…" Peter's eyes averted. "I can't even talk to you right now…"

Chris knew without a doubt that he heard Peter's voice crack when he said that and guilt ripped through him. "Peter… I'm sorry."

Peter put his hand up, silencing Chris. "I'll see you tonight," he said coldly before walking away.

After he heard Peter's car start and pull away, Chris helped Danny get up. "Does anything feel broken?"

"No," Danny winced. "I'm just going to have a lot of bruises. He's fucking psycho…"

"Don't talk about him like that!" Chris warned. "You don't understand him the way I do."

"Do you even hear yourself talking anymore?" Danny asked. "What did he do to you?"

"He gave me a freedom you'll never understand!" Chris snapped. "I'm so much happier with him than I've ever been in my life."

"What freedom?" Danny demanded. "I've watched him beat you until you were nearly unconscious and then fuck you until you passed out!"

"You just don't understand how our relationship works!" Chris insisted.

"That's not a fucking relationship, Chris!" Danny shouted. "That's abuse… slavery… rape. Don't legitimize his behavior by calling it a fucking relationship. I was married before I got dragged into this. I have a husband somewhere who wants me back, but thinks I'm either missing or dead. I have a daughter who thinks her papa died! I love Nick more than anything. That's a relationship. What you have is just sick."

* * *

Chris spent the rest of that day regretting what might happen when Peter came home. He kept checking on Danny to make sure that he didn't fall into a coma from his injuries. Peter didn't come home like ne normally did some time after 6 pm. At 8 pm, Chris was getting worried. When 11 pm rolled around, Chris' mind was combing through all the horrid possibilities that might explain why peter would be five hours late coming home without calling.

When Peter finally stumbled through the door, it was a few minutes past midnight and Chris could smell the alcohol on him from across the room. Chris was angry that Peter kept him worrying and even angrier that he drove drunk, but knowing that in this state, that conversation could only go badly, he simply helped Peter climb into bed, taking that familiar spot next to him. Instinct drove him to wrap his arms around his Dom, but Peter forcefully removed them. "Don't fucking touch me," he slurred, pulling the blanket over himself. Chris cried himself to sleep.

* * *

The next morning, Chris quietly pulled a robe over his body and went downstairs and poured himself a cup of coffee. He saw Peter sitting at the table, staring at a newspaper. "It feels like you cheated on me," Peter said after several minutes of choking, unbearable silence.

"I didn't realize it was going to go in that direction until he already took it there," Chris said. "I'm sorry."

"I know you are," Peter replied softly. It wasn't accusatory, angry, or malicious. It was a genuine acknowledgment. "But it still hurt." Chris sat down across from his love, placing his shaking hand on Peter's. "The thing is: I only agreed to keep him alive because I knew you'd see me as a monster if I didn't. The only reason he's still breathing is because I know you grew to love him and I couldn't put you through what happened to Jackson again. I saw this coming and it still hurt. But I'm not going to compete with him for you. If you want to go back with him, you're both free to do so."

"There's no competition!" Chris assured. "Yeah… I fell in love with him. But he was the one thing that helped me to tie myself to my old life. I _miss_ being an agent. I miss my friends… But I _love_ you, Peter. I can't throw everything we've been through away… and I won't. I'm yours."

Peter's hurt became Danny's hurt. While Peter and Chris agreed that they were both good and secure in their relationship, Peter still forced Chris to watch as he strung Danny up and worked his bruised body over viciously with a leather belt, forcing Danny to beg for more strikes, though he could barely form words.

"You were so adamant about making Chris beg," Peter's venomous voice rang as he circled Danny like a wild predator. "Keep begging. I want to hear you ask me to use you in the way you most deserve!"

After several more swats, it was obvious that Danny was teetering on the edge of consciousness. Peter lowered him so his feet could at least touch the floor. His beautiful tanned skin was now all manner of colors and he had pain all over his body that radiated down into his bones.

"Now, I want to hear you beg Chris to fuck you," Peter said. Chris startled. He was told he'd only be an observer to the punishment, not an instrument of it.

"Chris," Danny's chest heaved. "Please fuck me."

"You're not convincing me," Peter hissed, grabbing Danny's balls and yanking them down, causing a scream of agony.

"Please!" Danny cried. "Please fuck me, Chris…. Please!" His heart was pounding and he was very afraid he would die before the day was over, though he would prefer Chris' touch to Peter's.

"Better," Peter conceded, turning to Chris. "Are you going to keep him waiting?"

"Peter… this isn't what we discussed," Chris said warily.

"You agreed you still wanted to serve me," Peter replied. "This is how I wish to be served. Give me a show."

Chris shot a reproachful look back at Peter. As he slowly approached Danny, getting into position behind him, he said, "I need lube."

Peter uncrossed his arms and leaned forward, spitting onto Chris's erect dick. "There you go."

Chris pressed into Danny, feeling the hole slowly swallow him in, gripping him comfortably as he moved in. Danny whimpered, but Chris's steady stream of apologies helped ease the trauma of the event. As Chris began working himself in and out, he gasped in pleasure.

"That's not rough enough for you, is it, Danny?" Peter asked, smiling maliciously.

Danny merely groaned from the combination of pain and pleasure. Unsatisfied with this response, Peter once again yanked painfully on Danny's balls. He howled in pain, immediately giving the answer he knew Peter was searching for. "Please fuck me harder!"

Chris looked to Peter who nodded imperiously. He picked up the pace, the frequency of the slapping sound of skin against skin made a rapid, steady rhythm.

"I think you're holding back, Chris," Peter said, moving behind Chris and grabbing Danny's hips, pulling them more forcefully back onto his sub.

"I won't last much longer," Chris whispered.

"Try." Peter forced Danny to keep begging for Chris to go harder and faster until Chris came violently into Danny's ass, but still Peter forced Chris to continue. Each stroke was easier, now lubricated by his semen, but it was painful against his now highly sensitive dick. Grotesque noises sputtered as the gooey white substance dribbled from Danny, dripping down their legs. Peter finally pushed himself into Chris. They had fucked so much that it felt like a lock and key. "You will not stop until I do," Peter ordered, quickly working up to a satisfyingly brutal pace.

The new stimulation to his prostate made Chris' personal torment that much worse. As he kept pulling Danny back and forth onto his cock at as fast a pace as he could possibly manage given the pain caused by his pleasure, he came once more, though this time it was painful. He had never before felt less in control of his own body and he had never before been so turned on by Peter's depravity.

When Peter finally unloaded into Chris, he leaned forward, pushing his tongue past the sub's lips in a manner that seemed more obscene than romantic. "Now I can forgive you," he whispered after separating their lips.

Chris finally withdrew from Danny, his dick covered in a layer of semen. Peter lowered Danny so that he could easily take Chris into his mouth, ordering the bound sub to clean up after himself, which Chris thought was just adding insult to injury until he ordered Chris to do the same to him as he hoisted Danny back.

It wasn't the first time Chris had cleaned his cock of the evidence resulting from their exploits. When he was finished, Peter ordered him to go upstairs with him.

"Are you going to put Danny away?" Chris asked.

"I think a night struggling to breathe might allow this lesson to sink in.

* * *

Feeling broken and abused, Danny struggled to find a comfortable way to stand. He was exhausted and his muscles ached. Though as he pulled himself up to catch a deeper, more comfortable breath, he felt the rope slip. In his anger and haste, it seemed as though Peter wasn't as thorough with his knot-tying as he usually was. Immediately, Danny focused all of his effort to loosen the knot. It took well over two hours but finally he fell to the floor, free from the grip of the ropes. He knew he had to take advantage of his opportunity, though every fiber of his being wanted rest. He crept upstairs, being careful not to make any noise, and rummaged through the guest room to find clothes, pulling them on quickly before darting back downstairs and out of the house.

He forced himself to run. His muscles burned in fiery protest, but still he continued going down streets he'd never heard of in search of one thing. When he finally found it, he popped some change that had been in one of the pockets into the phone and quickly dialed a familiar number. The voice answered, obviously confused as to why a call was coming at this hour. After months of living captive and slowly manipulating the weak link that was Chris Argent, he finally heard what he needed to hear. "Nick…" he breathed. "It's you…"

* * *

**A/N**: Alright... The next chapter will be the conclusion. It might take me a while to write it because I want to ensure that I'm able to paint the picture for you that I see in my head and I really hope you enjoy it, just as I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please let me know what you thought!


	16. The Conclusion

_**This entire journey has led us to this, the final chapter of Crime and Punishment. It was always intended to go this way and I hope you enjoy it.**_

* * *

To say that they were tired simply didn't do it justice. From the moment they woke up to find that Danny had escaped, they were running. Their photos were plastered all over Canadian media, streets, and neighborhoods. The authorities were offering huge sums in reward for information that led to their capture. However, the thing that hurt the most about this for Chris was the burning sting of betrayal he felt. He had been duped into loving Danny, and now his world was crashing down around him in a manner only befitting of a Michael Bay film.

Peter's strong, steady grip on his hand was the only thing keeping him sane. "I knew we should have killed him," he said regretfully.

"Don't beat yourself up over it," Peter replied. "Besides, there's still plenty of time for us to kill him."

"But once again we're on the run, looking over our shoulders. This is how it's going to be for the rest of our lives," Chris lamented. "And it's my fault."

"It isn't your fault!" Peter's voice was forceful. "Right now, we can't think about fault or blame. We have to just keep going."

"But where can we go now?" Chris asked. "We can't leave this country…"

Peter sighed. He knew Chris was right. They would spend the rest of their lives in hiding, terrified that at any moment the police were moving in, ready to kill them if necessary. Shaking the images out of his head, he kept driving.

He had no idea where they were. Forests surrounded them. They were on a winding road that wove treacherously through the mountains and Peter knew they needed to stop and sleep soon. He could feel his eyelids growing heavy. He noticed an overgrown driveway approaching and following a hunch, decided to turn down. Chris felt uneasy about it, but stayed silent. At the end of the driveway, which ran for several miles into the woods, was a large cabin that looked as if it hadn't seen the presence of a human being in a couple of years. "We can rest in here for the night," Peter said.

Chris decided to speak up. "I don't think we should. Every time I've seen someone do this, a man shows up in the middle of the night with an axe or a chainsaw."

Peter chuckled. "Relax. I'll protect you."

It took several tries to jimmy open the lock, but once inside, Chris was surprised by how livable the space was, aside from the thick layer of dust that covered everything. There was no electricity, but there were oil lanterns and a large fire place. Peter immediately set to finding matches so he could light the pyre and keep the frigid cold out while they rested.

The cackling roar was soothing as Peter and Chris curled up next to it. For a moment, as he watched the flames dance and spark and felt the warm, cozy embrace of Peter's arms, Chris forgot that they were fugitives. He let his mind wander. "Have you ever wondered how things might be different if we'd met under different circumstances?" he asked.

In his absentmindedness, Peter's thumb caressed the strong arm beneath it. "Occasionally."

Chris suddenly felt an urgent need to explore that idea. "Do you think we would have met in a bar… locked eyes from a distance and maybe made suggestive motions with a pool cue?"

"I wouldn't be so subtle," Peter joked. "I would have bought you a drink… enthralled you with mostly made-up tales of my everyday life in hopes that you'd find me interesting enough to agree to come back to my place."

"Is that when you would have tied me up and whipped me?"

"No," Peter replied, much to Chris' shock. "I would have worked slowly up to that, starting with mindblowing sex followed by breakfast in bed before you tried to sneak out on me. I would have left my phone number in your pocket and hoped that you would call me."

"Now you're just full of shit," Chris laughed.

Peter chuckled back. "You're right. I have no doubt in my mind you would call." Leaning forward, Peter nibbled slightly on Chris' ear. The heat radiating from the fire was starting to make Chris sweat under his clothes. He sat up, removing his shirt and pants, leaving just his boxers. Peter, too, removed his clothing, though he went one step further than Chris. As they got back into position, Chris smiled as he felt Peter poking him in the back with his rigid cock.

"Do you want me to handle that for you?" Chris asked.

Peter scoffed. "Sex in front of a fireplace in a rural cabin. It's way too cliché for us."

Chris pushed his boxers off and reached behind him, guiding Peter carefully into him. He gasped in pleasure at that distinctive sensation of being penetrated and then filled up by the man he loved.

"Chris, I'm tired," Peter complained. Chris realized just how exhausted he had to be.

"We don't have to have sex. I just wanted you inside me," Chris replied. Peter squeezed his arms tighter around Chris as they both stared at the glowing, roaring hearth before their exhaustion finally overtook them.

* * *

"I'm sending you for mandatory psychiatric evaluation. You're off the case, paid leave until you're notified," the tall blonde man said as Danny sat across from him.

"No!" Danny protested. "After what they did to me, I shouldn't be punished by not getting to bring them in! Please, Isaac…"

"It's exactly _because_ of what they did to you that you can't work on this case anymore! But I assure you, I'll bring them to justice. They'll answer for their crimes. And they'll pay for what they put you through," Director Lahey assured Danny.

"But how? They've had a week to disappear. It took me months and even then, I stumbled across them by accident!" Danny was livid. He should have just drugged them while he was still there and called the cops, but he was so desperate to hear Nick's voice that he didn't think it through.

"They can't hide from us forever," Isaac said.

"Yes! They can! If there's anyone in the world that could pull it off, it's those two!"

"Go home, Agent. Spend some time with your family. They miss you," Isaac replied, dismissing the conversation.

Defeated, Danny angrily left the office, returning to the car where his beloved husband was sitting in the driver's seat, their daughter Ella sleeping peacefully in the back. "How did it go?" Nick asked.

"They took me off the case and I'm on paid administrative leave and have to participate in mandatory psych counseling," Danny growled.

"Good," Nick said. "After what you went through…"

Danny cut him off. "Please… Don't shrink me right now. I'm not your patient. I want to see those bastards fry for what they did."

Nick watched his husband with worry. Danny was different. He was happy to have any version of Danny he could get, especially after believing him to be dead for so long, but he didn't have time to prepare for what Danny had gone through and how it would affect him. There was no more affectionate touching. Danny often would wince whenever Nick tried to even hold his hand. Being a psychiatrist, he knew what was going on in his husband's head, and he wanted to help. "I've told you, Danny. If you need to talk, I'm here to listen. I won't _shrink_ you. But I'm your husband and I vowed to be by your side for better or for worse. Just don't push me out."

Danny sighed, staring out his window. "I know you are," he said softly. "I just… I can't talk to you about what they did to me. You'd never be able to see me in the same way."

* * *

Chris woke up shivering and surrounded by darkness. He could still feel Peter inside him, his arm resting lazily around Chris' waist. The fire had gone out, though there was a faint red glow from a few embers that refused to succumb to the cold air. As his senses returned to him, he realized that he heard something outside. His heart began to race and he quickly jumped to his feet, startling Peter. Chris placed his index finger on Peter's lips and whispered into his love's ear, "I hear something."

He quietly pulled on clothes and rummaged through his bag for his gun, quickly taking the safety lock off and checking to make sure it had plenty of ammunition. His years of FBI training instantly came back to him and he cautiously peeked out the window, his firearm at the ready. The woods surrounding them were dark. Suddenly he was wishing he hadn't made that axe murderer joke.

When the noise sounded closer, Chris cautiously reached for the door, but snapped back behind it when he saw headlights shine into the house. A look of sheer panic flashed across Peter's face. Chris motioned for Peter to duck as he moved into a position, ready to fire the moment the door was opened. Footsteps moved around outside and after a loud snapping noise, the place was suddenly lit up. Chris sighed. There _was_ electricity. However, as the footsteps drew back toward the door, he stiffened against the wall. Peter watched on, holding his breath.

The door creaked open. A man looking to be in his 70s walked in, startled by the sight of two men, one naked, in the cabin. Chris' barrel was lined directly to the man's right eye. "Who are you?" Chris demanded.

"My name is Marc," the man replied in a French accent.

"And what are you doing here, Marc?" Chris asked.

"Zis iz my cabin! I come here once every few years to relax," Marc explained. Chris was unnerved by his calm nature, despite having a gun pointed to his head. "I wanted to come back one more time before I died."

"Do you know who we are?" Chris continued his interrogation.

"You are ze Americans who all of ze police are looking for," Mark answered.

The fact that he was able to answer the question correctly meant that, even though he was feeble and old, he was a threat. Chris lowered his weapon from the man's eye to his chest. The man stared into Chris' eyes, years beginning to form as he made the sign of the cross. "I'm sorry," Chris said. "But I can't let you live."

Peter's jaw dropped, finally realizing the affect his time with Chris had truly had on him. His eyes darted back and forth between the old man who was in the wrong place at the wrong time and the FBI agent he had managed to corrupt without even intending to. He knew that man's psyche inside and out and he seriously doubted whether or not Chris would be able to handle the repercussions of the action he was about to take. "You don't have to do this, my pet," he said softly. Peter held his hand open for Chris to pass the gun to him. He knew there was still a chance that Chris could get leniency if they were caught and he wanted to allow Chris to continue with a clear conscience. Lawyers could make the case that he was brainwashed and coerced, suffering from Stockholm Syndrome. Chris would be sent for psychiatric help and rehabilitated. "Please… give me the gun."

Chris shook his head. "But I do, Peter. I've killed before."

"In the line of duty. This is something else entirely," Peter said.

Chris turned his head, locking eyes with Peter. "You and I both know I'm not longer the innocent cop. Maybe we should start acting like it." He turned back to Mark who stared at him defiantly.

"Do what you must," Mark said. "I forgive you. May God have mercy on you both."

Chris closed his eyes and squeezed the trigger. The deafening bang issued as the bullet discharged and struck Marc's chest, piercing his heart. The old man fell backwards, out the door, dead. Peter rushed to Chris' side, ready for the emotional dam he expected to break at any moment. Chris turned into Peter's arms, shaking from what he'd just done. "Shh," Peter said, holding Chris close. "I've got you…" He managed to free the gun from Chris' grip and set it on a nearby table. While Chris processed the fact that he had taken a life in cold blood, Peter was forced to deal with the fact that his plan to help keep Chris safe was now equally as dead as the old man bleeding out on the steps. They were truly in this together now.

* * *

Pretending to be working with INTERPOL, Danny had managed to get back to Canada, desperate to finally experience some closure. He could hear Nick begging him to stay home… keep taking the anti-depressants… talk to the therapist… but talking wasn't helping. He was angry constantly. And he knew that nothing was going to get better until he had Peter and Chris either in custody or caskets.

* * *

Peter watched silently as Chris dug Marc's grave. He had insisted on doing it himself. When it was done, Peter helped Chris climb out of the hole and maneuver Mark's body into it. "Go inside," Chris said. "I'll be inside in a few." Peter allowed his lips to brush against Chris' cheek before heading back inside.

As Chris covered the body with dirt, he once again found himself wondering what Victoria might think of she could see him. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his badge. A tear fell from his cheek onto the shiny object. He closed his eyes, blinking away more tears before tossing it into the hole and throwing more dirt on top of it. He no longer deserved to hold that honor. He had forsaken the vows he made when he received it. When the hole was finally filled, he smoothed it over, staring at it for several long minutes before finally joining Peter indoors.

Peter had managed to reconstitute the fire and was sitting in an oversized chair when Chris finally joined him. Chris really needed to be held, so he climbed into the chair next to Peter who knowingly wrapped him tightly. Chris never told Peter that Marc was not the only thing he buried.

* * *

Unable to go to a store and pick up basic supplies, they relied on hunting nearby animals for food. Having been an avid hunter growing up, Chris was the natural choice. But holding the gun felt different for him now. Peter expertly prepared the kills, but Chris never seemed to be able to enjoy the food like he should have. They spent a lot of time exploring the area around the cabin. After a thorough search, they found a map which showed that several miles to the west was a cliff that overlooked a large lake. If they followed the cliff, they would eventually come to a large waterfall. Peter urged Chris to go see it, wanting to watch the sunset over it.

In truth, Peter just wanted to see if there was anything that could return the beautiful sense of wonder to Chris' eyes which had turned cold and dead… like his.

* * *

An old man had been reported missing. Danny flipped past the APB on to something that might be of use. He was busy combing through anything that might give him a clue as to where Chris and Peter might be. He talked with Nick daily, assuring him that he'd be home as soon as he found them.

"And what happens if you get caught?" Nick demanded. "You can go to prison. Ella misses you. I miss you. Please… Danny… come home."

"Soon," Danny promised. "We're going to catch them. I feel it." Nick wasn't going to continue waiting for him. Danny knew that. He had to find them soon so he could get the closure he needed and return to his husband and child.

An officer approached Danny as he stood outside. "So you know that old guy who was reported missing?"

"Yeah, what about him?"

"Turns out that he sometimes visits a cabin not too far from here. The family lives a few hundred miles away and wants us to go check and see if he's there. Care to ride with me? You look like some fresh air could do you good," the officer asked.

Danny shrugged. "Why not?"

He climbed into the car. As soon as they reached the forest, he began to regret it. He could have been looking for evidence, not gallivanting with the natives, searching for an old man who probably just forgot to call.

When they turned down the long driveway, Danny shifted uncomfortably. "This place screams horror film."

Once they broke into the clearing where the cabin sat, Danny froze. Sitting parked in front of the house was a car he recognized very well. Immediately he drew his weapon.

"Woah! We're just checking to see if he's alright!" the officer said.

"See that car right there?" Danny asked. The officer nodded. "That car last belonged to Peter Hale and Chris Argent."

"Call for backup."

Both officers got out after sending the call and began to check out the house. Immediately they saw the blood that stained the front stairs. As they circled around, the obvious marks of a roughly-dug grave showed. "I think I know what we'll find if we start digging here."

It took a while for back up to come, but they brought with them dogs that would be able to track the men and enough manpower to ensure that this time, they wouldn't escape.

* * *

"How much further?" Chris asked.

Peter studied the map. "Not too far."

The trees began to thin as they approached. A faint roar could be heard and Chris guessed that it must be the waterfall. "You know that we're going to end up having to walk back in the dark, right?"

"It's worth it," Peter said. "We're going to watch the sun set over a waterfall. Come on…"

The sky was painted with beautiful reds, pinks and oranges as the sun dipped low over the mountains. The view was dazzling and even managed to bring a tear to Chris' eyes, and much relief to Peter, who was afraid that he had all but lost Chris. They stood in silence, Peter's arm wrapped around Chris' waist as the earth seemed to consume the giant orb and the hot reds and pinks melted into icy blues and purples before the spattering of twinkling stars gleamed above them. "You're right," Chris admitted. "That was worth it." Their moment was interrupted by the sound of a barking dog. "Was that a wolf?"

"I don't think so," Peter replied, pulling out a flash light while Chris reached for the gun he kept on him at all times.

"OVER HERE!" a strange voice called and pins of light began to get closer. The barking got louder. Peter and Chris searched for somewhere to hide, but they couldn't. They would have to go right past whoever it was in order to escape the little enclave where they'd watched the sunset.

"Hands where I can see them!" a familiar voice called. As they approached, the moon was bright enough that Chris could easily make out Danny's features. When Danny realized that his trip was going to be over soon, he chuckled. "It's like Christmas…"

Chris knew they couldn't escape from this.

"Drop your weapon!" one of the officers demanded. Slowly, Chris knelt down, placing the gun on the ground before him.

"I don't think we're getting out of this one, my pet," Peter said quietly. "Perhaps if we're lucky, we'll get the same prison."

"I'm not going to prison," Chris asserted. "I've put way too many people there."

"I really don't think they're going to give you a choice on that one, my pet," Peter chuckled before turning his attention to Danny. "Congratulations, you found us."

"Arrest them," Danny snarled. One of the officers moved to approach and instantly, Chris reached down, picking his gun back up and waving it at the crowd of encroaching law enforcement.

"Stay back!" Chris shouted, aiming the gun at Danny.

"It's two of you against all of us. Are you seriously thinking you're going to escape this time?" Danny asked. "Put the gun down and come with us peacefully. Everything you're doing is just making things that much worse."

"We'll go with you," Chris replied. "Just… give us two minutes… right here to talk."

"Fine," Danny said, "You have two minutes and if you don't come with me after that, I'll release the dogs."

Chris turned to Peter. "What are you doing, my pet?" Peter asked.

"I'm not going with them. We're smart… there's a tiny chance we'll escape… but if we do, we'll be running for the rest of our lives and I can't do that anymore," Chris said, keeping his voice low enough that Danny and the others wouldn't be able to hear them.. "And if we go with them, we'll be apart… for the rest of our lives. Let's go out on our terms…"

"What do you mean?"

"One minute!" Danny called. The dogs snarled, ready to attack.

"I say we jump. Go out in a blaze of glory. Are you with me?" Chris said.

Peter glanced at the cliff to his right and back to Chris. "Are you sure about this? I can testify that I coerced you to do everything… I can try to save you…"

"I don't want you to. And I won't let you go down alone," Chris replied, pulling Peter close. "Please… let's do this…"

"On three, my pet?"

"On three," they kissed tenderly, passionately, and desperately, ensuring it was the sort of kiss goodbye the other deserved. Time seemed to stand still around them as they worked hard to convey every last bit of love and passion they had for one another into their final act. Tears streamed from both men's faces as they knew that this would be the last time they got taste one another on their lips and feel the warm embrace of the one they loved.

"I love you, my pet," Peter whispered.

"I love you, too, sir."

Peter shook his head. "No… we die together as equals. Are you ready?"

"One," Chris started, nodding.

"Two," Peter continued.

"Three." They said together, grasping each other's hands as tightly as they could, they ran, flinging themselves off the cliff face.

As Chris fell, he worked hard to ensure that his hand remained connected to Peter. It felt like flying. Adrenaline had been pumping through his system and he could feel the darkness approaching. He saw Victoria. She seemed proud. In his final moment, Chris knew he had done the right thing.

Peter focused only on Chris. That familiarly warm hand interlocked with his. He had never expected any of this to happen when he first offered that deal to Chris. He expected to be in jail by this point. Yet now, as he plunged to his death, he felt blissful. In the past year, he had grown to do something he never thought he ever would. He grew to love someone other than himself, so much more than himself. He knew that in the past weeks, he had changed. He only felt sorry that while he improved as a person due to his time with Chris, that the tradeoff was Chris losing himself the way he did. But having the privilege of dying with the only person he ever truly loved… that was wonderful.

* * *

A modern-day Bonnie and Clyde. That's what every news outlet in the world seemed to agree on. Peter and Chris may have perished, but the drama of their final act launched them into a sort of immortality that allowed them to live on. Books were written, movies scripted.

Stiles' and Derek's lives became quiet and normal. In school, Mia eventually learned about her great uncle Peter and his truly epic criminal love story. While they did their best to make sure it wasn't too romanticized, Derek was glad that in the end, his uncle finally found peace.

Danny was kicked out of the bureau for lying about an international investigation, but that gave him time to be a stay-at-home dad. He eventually told his story in a memoir and donated all proceeds to victims of rape and torture. He was never able to talk to Nick about what he went through. And there were still times when he felt dirty after making love to his husband, or would wake up screaming after a vivid dream in which he was back in that basement.

But every year, he would go to a grave yard just outside of Beacon Hills where there rested two plots side-by-side. He only ever focused his attention on one. He always left a single rose placed exactly in the middle in hopes that they might know that he forgave them.

_The End_

* * *

**Author's Note:**

I want to thank all of you who have read this story, commented, conversed with, and even encouraged me as I worked on it. This has been one of the best experiences I've ever had and I really hope you enjoyed it as much as I have enjoyed writing it.

This is not, however, the last time we will see this version of Stiles, Derek, and Danny. I will be writing a companion piece to this story that tells what was going on in their lives a little more in-depth.

Please let me know what you thought, and check out my other works!


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